


Oadriax

by Daksgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2012, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 80,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daksgirl/pseuds/Daksgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Sci-Fi heavily influenced by James Cameron's 'Avatar', where the boys aren't hunters, and angels and demons exist but are considered 'aliens'.</p><p>After the death of their estranged mother Mary on a planet called Oadriax, Sam and Dean hop the first transport out to the edge of the civilized galaxy. After a tense run in with the base's demonic security chief and his creepy second in command Alistair, Dean finds himself lost in the forest, and stumbles into an angel with black wings and blue eyes that calls himself Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Dean/Castiel Big Bang community on Livejournal, definitely go check them out! Lots of amazing stories and art being posted all month. The amazing terrorinyertub(lj) drew me some awesome art for this fic, just search her on LJ (or check out my livejournal profile, same author name) and check out the awesomosity!

  
**Warnings:  **Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

 

* * *

He was going to die.

He was going to die a horrible, horrible death, full of fire and screaming and crashing. Hot women dressed in skintight black dresses wouldn't even be able to sob over his coffin, not this far out from the inner planets.

Out the scratched and dusty shuttle window, an endless lush green carpet of trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Startled white shapes took off from the canopy as the shuttle passed overhead; birds by the look of it, or at least whatever passed for birds on this godforsaken planet. Brief glimpses of clear, turquoise water winked up at the craft as it hummed by, strange beasts darting for cover and braying in alarm.

It was beautiful, and Dean Winchester hated it already.

The shuttle gave another vicious jerk, as if mocking his inner panic, and Dean gritted his teeth, fingers tightening on the rough straps that locked him into place against his seat. His company-issued white t-shirt was stuck to him, molded against his back and chest, and he grimaced, trying to pull the fabric away from his skin. He had always been a bad flyer, ever since the first time he set foot in a little hovercraft at the age of four. Sammy of course, had loved it, the little monster.

From the cockpit to Dean's right, he could hear the faint hum and beeps of the craft controls as the pilots guided the shuttle through its descent. Across from him was a line of grim faced men, all strapped into their harnesses like he was. A rough looking man, dressed in the faded army wear most of the men on the shuttle sported, leant towards him. A cigarette dangled precariously from his cracked lips, and Dean found himself trying to focus on it, to ignore the way the man swayed with the movements of the shuttle.

"Ye alright darlin'?"

The voice was a barely audible rumble, accent almost slurred. Not a soldier, probably a spacer from one of the edge colonies. Maybe a mercenary.

The man grinned at him, his teeth nicotine-stained yellow. "Little miss don't like flyin' huh? Figures. Ye inner core boys always were a bit soft. Yer jus there t' look pretty 'aint ya?"

There were loud guffaws from the other men around them, and Dean ground his teeth together. He had been around men like this his whole life—old hardened spacers who had travelled to the edge of the civilized galaxy to try and make a living. Thought they were the shit, that they had seen it all and the world owed them something.

_Mental note: kick this guy's ass later._

Nicotine-teeth withdrew, grinning to himself as his buddies gave him a few brotherly slaps on the shoulder. Dean glowered at them as best he could, but judging by the fake kisses thrown his way, it wasn't very effective.

"Dean, look!"

A shoulder knocked into his, jolting him and bringing his attention back to the fact that he was sitting in a tin-can of death. His stomach dropped towards his knees, and he squeezed his eyes shut viciously.

"Goddamit, Sam," he rasped, fingers turning a bloodless white where they dug into the cheap metal of his harness. "Can't you let me die in peace?"

His brother had somehow managed to twist his mammoth frame around in his harness, enabling Sam to peer out the window behind him. His nose was squished up against the glass, eyes wide and enchanted with the world below them and completely uncaring of the hardened men around him.

"Oh, no  _way,_ " Sam wiggled himself even closer to the window. "A glaaeoptera! Can you believe it? This is amazing!"

Cursing every God of the seven core planets, Dean reached over to tug his brother down, shooting a look towards the grim faced soldiers across from them.

"Totally awe-tasic," he managed gruffly. "Now, sit your ass down and at least  _pretend_ that you're a normal human being for once."

Sam huffed in annoyance but complied, pulling away from the window and arranging himself back into his harness. "Well, excuse me for being enthusiastic about my first time on an alien planet."

It really beggared belief that the currently pouting behemoth next to him was actually,  _officially_ , called Dr. Winchester. As in, people actually  _paid_  his little brother to be that huge of a nerd. Something was seriously wrong with the universe.

"It's not exactly going anywhere, Sam," Dean mumbled, closing his eyes and willing the shuttle to not explode. The air was too close around him, musty and sharp with the odor of too many men in a small space. "It was there for the six years we were in stasis, and it'll probably be there another six. We, however, probably won't be because we'll have died in a firey inferno of  _death_."

He could actually  _hear_  Sam's bitchface. "Seriously dude? You're still afraid of flying? You're a  _marine_."

Nicotine-teeth and his buddies chortled some more, and with a bitten off curse, Dean opened his eyes, turning to point angrily at his brother.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with not liking flying," he growled fiercely. "In fact, it's a healthy thing. We have feet for a reason Sam!"

Sam looked smug, and Dean just wanted to punch him. "Welcome to the future, Dean. Even our historic ancestorshad planes. You're positively primeval."

"And proud," Dean snapped back. With a roll of his eyes, Sam surrendered to him, glancing away and towards a window on the far side of the shuttle. With a shuddering sigh, Dean tried to convince his stomach it didn't want to forcibly exit his body through his mouth.

Wow. Six years.

Six years since he had been woken in the middle of the night by the over-loud beeping of that stupid holographic communicator Lisa had insisted he install. He had  _said_  the piece of shit was just a waste of time; he had a perfectly fine voice-box where you only had to talk to people, not have to actually  _see_ them. But she had insisted, and he had installed the damn thing, and the first call he had ever gotten on it was from Sam.

He could still remember standing in front of the fuzzy form of his brother, peering blearily at it as Dean stood in its pale blue glow in his boxers. He could remember still standing there five hours later, long after Sam hung up, when Lisa came in and asked what was wrong. He could remember having to actually say it out loud, to acknowledge it as the truth.

_Mom died. They say it was an accident. A reactor overloaded in the lab and everything went up in flames…including her._

To this day, the sound of an incoming holo-call made his heart stutter.

The pilots up front shouted something, and a man who could put a drill sergeant to shame, leant forward in his harness. Dean vaguely remembered his name as Gordon something, a retired marine who helped shuttle scientists and soldiers into the complex.

"Alright ladies! Coming in for landing now so, keep your hands to yourselves and put away your lipsticks! And Winchester-"

Dean glanced over at him blearily and the man glowered at him. "If you puke on my bird, so help me, I will throw you off this shuttle before you can finish."

Sam took pity on Dean as they landed, giving him a firm squeeze on the shoulder, and even passing him a bag to puke into when the wheels hit ground. Dean didn't even care about the laughs of the other men aboard the shuttle, the shoulders that jostled his.

They were on the ground, and they weren't  _dead_.

As the craft came to a stop, the cramped interior filled with the sounds of shifting equipment as everyone reached for their duffels. The back shuttle bay door opened with a metallic screech, flooding the cramped interior with warm air, and the Winchesters were finally treated to their first view of Oadriax.

Talk about anti-climactic.

The complex they'd now be calling home looked more like a maximum security prison than a mining station, with tall wire fences complete with turret towers and guards patrolling the fences. The main building itself was grey and ugly, squatting like a fat toad in an otherwise beautiful oasis.

Dean's duffle was shoved roughly at him, and on shaking legs, Dean followed the rest of the men outside, taking a deep appreciative breath. His lungs did a jig of happiness at tasting natural oxygen again, though the effect was somewhat ruined when Nictoine-teeth lit up his cigarette.

The air was humid, still heavy with the day's heat, something sweet smelling on the breeze. Apart from the twin suns currently setting on the horizon, Oadriax was similar to Earth, a carbon based planet with breathable air and vaguely similar creatures. The big-wigs on the Earth Council had been ecstatic, thrilled to find a planet that could provide a new profitable resource to ensure Earth's place on the Galactic trade agreement.

A helicraft roared overhead, blades whirling, and Dean winced, shifting his duffle more securely over his shoulder as he hurried down the ramp.

"Well, would you look at that boys. Fresh meat!"

A few menacing looking marines lined the way towards the main building, catcalling and whistling at the new members that would join their ranks. Dean knew the type. Back on Earth, these were all army dogs, marines fighting for the rights of humanity in an ever expanding galaxy. Some were deployed to smaller colonies located on neighboring planets that were protected by the Council, but out here they were just hired guns, working for the company. This far from the Citadel, they didn't have to fight for some noble vision of honor and loyalty.

Out here, they were just dogs off their leash.

Sam was oblivious, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stared at a huge yellow bulldozer that rumbled past. Stuck in its tires were several brightly colored arrows, and dumbly he started moving towards it. Dean grabbed a hold of the faded green duffle slung across his brother's back, tugging him backwards just as a small off roader zoomed by. Its driver twisted in his seat, motioning rudely.

"Watch it!"

Dean made his own gesture back. "How about you look where you're going, asshole!"

"Dean!" Sam hissed, looking ridiculously scandalized as his brother dragged him away. "Two seconds and you're already going to piss people off? That's a new record, even for you."

Dean just continued to drag him along, past the winking marines, and through the automatic doors into the cool building inside. "You're a long way from the Citadel, Sam," he muttered grimly. "You better remember that."

 

* * *

 

Dr. Mary Campbell had been the leading expert in her field. An incredibly gifted xenoanthropologist, she had spent her life studying other humanoid life. She had grown up in the Citadel, Earth's capital, and met John Winchester there, while he was on active duty. They were from two different worlds, and as the story goes, they fell in love.

They moved to a quiet little mining town in New Kansas. Supposedly, the original Kansas had been destroyed because of a slight misunderstanding during peace negotiations with the Lycanthropes, but the Kansas that replaced it wasn't really that different from the last.

And they were happy. For a time, Dean could remember them all being happy.

But Mary wasn't cut out for colony life.

She missed her research, missed the adventures promised to her at the beginning of her career. When Oadriax was discovered, and the demand for xeno research was renewed, fights between her and John spiraled out of control. She wanted to go. John wanted to stay. Dean could still remember listening to them argue late at night, voices muffled through the floor. He'd sneak into Sam's nursery on those nights, clambering into the baby's crib even though he knew it wasn't allowed. Sam would fuss a little but then settle, curling his little hands into the soft fabric of Dean's Superman pajamas while their parents raged below.

One day, the door slammed and Mary just never came back.

Dean was five. Sam was barely walking.

She sent cards of course, presents for her sons on their birthdays. But slowly, they started becoming less and less frequent. John never spoke of her, preferring to throw himself into his work in the mines. Sometimes, Dean wished he had tried more to contact her, to talk to her. Finally ask  _why._ Why they weren't good enough to keep her.

Why _he_  wasn't good enough.

It was a rough life in the mining colony, and no-one was surprised when Sam announced his plans to go to college. He was smart, talented and would go far. He wanted to study xenobiology, much like his absent mother, but John hadn't been as enthusiastic. Dean had tried to ignore them at first, of how much their fights reminded him of the words Mary used to scream.

But he couldn't ignore the day Sam walked out on them like Mary had all those years ago. The day his baby brother clutched a duffle to his chest and stormed out of their modest house, hitching a speeder out of State and ignoring Dean's pleas to stay. John's dark figure had stood in the doorway as he watched his youngest abandon their already screwed up family.

Life went on. Work in the mines was hard and dirty but it was a living. And Dean, well—

Dean stayed with John.

When the Council started its war on a planet in a nearby galaxy called Hel, John was called back into military service. Dean followed. What else was there for him, really? While Sam stayed safe in the Citadel, training to be an educated nerd, Dean trained in the art of killing. The military offered him what he had never really found at home, something stable and ordered. It suited him just fine.

And he got to keep Sam safe. His baby brother was flourishing in the Citadel, and Dean fought to keep him there, to make sure Hel never got a chance to wage the devastating genocide it wanted. Sometimes that's all that kept him going, the only thing that made him pick up a gun and do what he had to.

After three, long, bloody years, the smoke settled on the battlefield. Hel and the Council agreed on a peace treaty and conveniently forgot about the thousands dead still lying on a battlefield swathed in blood.

But Dean wouldn't forget. Couldn't. Not when one of those corpses wore such a familiar face.

Life in New Kansas just wasn't the same. He had seen and done things on Hel that normal people would never have to experience. He was a changed man. He couldn't hold a job down, his girlfriend Lisa left him, and life just, well, life just sucked  _balls_.

Sam graduated. Got his PhD in Xenoanthropology. Did everything Dean could never have done, and he knew it was worth it. Worth the shit he had done, worth the deaths he had wrought. Sam had a glamorous life in the Citadel, rubbing elbows with the upper crust, a beautiful blonde called Jess on his arm, and Dean was happy for him.

It was worth waking up every night in a cold sweat, screaming. Worth hearing gun fire every time a shuttle flew by overhead, worth seeing blood every time he washed his hands.

It had been a few months after the news of Mary's death, when Sam appeared at Dean's door. Told him about the Angel Project, about taking over Mary's work. And, really, what other choice was there for him? Stay a washed up war vet on a shitty colony he hated or be with his brother again?

He still had his old army credentials. His old buddy, Hendricks, was more than happy to give him a shining review and Roman Enterprises was always looking for old army dogs to join their operation.

Win-win for everyone all around.

Except for the part where it turned out they employed demons. They could have at least put  _that_ in the welcome manual.

 

* * *

 

The welcome hall was filled with soldiers and civilians alike, squeezed in on the uncomfortable plastic cafeteria chairs, all staring in awe at the creature that was to ensure their safety as head of security. A few demons lined the walls, their little beady eyes trained on their leader.

Dean  _hated_ demons. He glared at them as Sam led him towards some unoccupied seats, fingers already itching for his revolver.

They weren't  _really_ demons. The word was just slang the soldiers used during the war. Their real species name was too hard to pronounce with human tongues, but they hailed from the hot planet of Hel—which sounded way too much like hell—and were all vicious bastards. It didn't take a grunt long to coin the term 'demon'.

The Council had passed some sort of law a while back saying the term 'demon' was derogatory and shouldn't be used, but Dean wasn't about to stop calling them what they were. Not after he spent three years of his life watching those bastards rip apart his friends and family.

Hel had been discovered on a routine scouting mission, and was a gas planet with a thin continental crust that could  _just_ support life. Didn't mean it was nice. Demons wanted  _off_ it. That was what the whole Hel War had been about; a bunch of rats wanting to jump ship. Only, the place they were trying to jump to was already inhabited.

They were stronger than humans, a few had some weird ass telekinetic mojo, and were pretty stubborn about dying. But they were human enough. You wouldn't even be able to tell that they weren't until you looked at their eyes. Then you saw what they really were.

Demons came in all flavors, all colors of the same fucked up rainbow. Back in his service days, Dean had joked about there being a pink-eyed demon that had the power to throw cupcakes. These days, he wished there was such a thing.

Black eyes were the most common. They were at the bottom of the demonic food chain, nothing more than grunts. Dean had fought them mostly, knew what they were capable of, what they looked like when he put a bullet between their inky eyes.

They were the ones currently lined up against the walls, flat eyes barely blinking as they listened to the welcoming speech. His leg bounced up and down, whole body strung and agitated at their presence. Sam shot him a look.

"Dude," he hissed. "Chill."

Easy for Sam to say. Kid had only met the demons found on the Citadel. Those were the reds, hardly ever found on the battlefield. They were the politicians, the charismatic ones that had little to no interest in physical warfare.

But they were still  _demons._

There were probably milkies hanging around the Citadel too. Since the peace treaty, demons had been a more common sight, and the white-eyed ones were considered something like demon royalty, held lavish parties for no other reason than that they could. No better than the human upper-class.

Those, Dean could deal with. He could even deal with twitchy reds, or slimy blackies. But he could not,  _would_ not, deal with this.

"You are  _not_ on Earth anymore," the Colonel stood in front of them all, hands clasped behind his back and legs spread apart. "You are on Oadriax, ladies and gentlemen. Respect that fact, every second of every day."

His mouth flattened into a serious line as he swept his eyes across the crowd. Eyes Dean had only seen once before and would have quite happily gone the rest of his life without seeing ever again.

But the universe liked fucking him over. The Colonel was Dean's  _boss._

Those mustard yellow eyes alighted on Dean for a moment, before resuming their torturous crawl along the row of humans.

"I can tell you that there  _is_ a Hel kids, and it is a spa resort compared to Oadriax," the demon began a tortuous walk down the row of seat humans, the black eyes along the walls shooting wicked smiles at each other. "Out there, beyond that fence, everything that flies, walks or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat you."

Dean leant towards Sam, smirking. "Looks like something tried and spat him back out. Talk about  _fugly_."

He got a punch on the arm for his comedic troubles and Dean withdrew, rubbing his arm with a glower.

"We have an indigenous population of humanoids called the Ne'gassagen. Probably one of the last natural populations in existence," the demon continued, shooting a look in Dean's direction again. "Or, as you may know them,  _angels._  They're fond of arrows, dipped in a neurotoxin that'll stop your heart in one minute. They're faster than you are, they're stronger, and in case you haven't seen their pretty little bodies pasted in every strip joint from here to the Citadel, they can fly because they have big ass wings. They are  _very_ hard to kill."

Hands behind his back, the demon drew up short in front of Dean, staring down at him with those burnt sepia eyes. Dean looked up at him insolently, arching an eyebrow. The demon merely snorted at him, before moving away.

"As head of security, it is my job to keep you alive. I will not succeed. Not with all of you. If you wish to survive, you obey the rules. If you don't, you won't have to worry about the angels killing you, because I'll have done it instead."

Dean's boss.

A yellow-eyed demon.

Wonderful.

He was going to  _murder_ Sam for dragging him out here.

 

* * *

 

The corridors were cramped, full of people bustling in all directions as Dean followed a way too excited Sam towards the biolabs. A tinny voice crackled over the intercom, something about protocols, but no-one paid it any attention.

"Hey here it is!"

Dean nearly walked right into Sam's broad back as his brother came to an abrupt standstill, gazing wide eyed at the glossy door plaque. It screamed at them with bold black lettering: **BIOLAB, AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY**.

Dean arched an eyebrow at it. "Authorized access only? You sure I'm even allowed back here, Sammy?"

Sam was already swiping his newly acquired access card through the metallic strip. "Oh sure. If anyone asks, just say you're doing science."

The door slid open with a quiet rustle and Dean could only stare at him in disbelief as Sam practically tripped over himself to get inside.

"I'm  _doing science_? Well thank god you're here to tell me how it's done, Dr. Winchester."

Every available surface in the lab was crammed with expensive looking equipment. Men and women were hunched over various holopads, conversing in hushed tones as machinery hummed and beeped in the background. Dean felt like a bull in a china shop, too clumsy and rough for such a place, whilst Sam glided effortlessly past everything, occasionally pausing to gasp at something. No-one paid them any attention, everyone engrossed in their various experiments. Dean found a relatively clear desk and leant against it, eyeing the strange purple plant settled on top of it as Sam flailed around the place gushing about machinery.

A loud voice bellowed through the lab and every white coat within hearing distance tensed up, ducking their heads and falling silent. Startled, Dean nearly knocked over the plant, and hurriedly righted it, almost sending a slew of documents scattering to the floor.

"Who's got my goddamn cigarette?  _Hello_ , what's wrong with this picture?"

Sam reappeared, grabbing ahold of Dean's arm. His fingers were bordering on painful as they dug into the bare skin of his bicep, and Dean grimaced.

"Sam, what the hell!" Dean hissed, trying to pry his brother's fingers off him.

"That's Dr. Robert Singer," Sam was all slack-jawed and googly eyed again. "He's a legend, the head of the Ne'gassagen program. Oh man, I spent most of my studies just reading his journals!"

The man attached to the voice strode through an adjourning hissing door, white lab coat flapping, and Dean had to do a double take. The guy was too rough and worn looking to be just a dorky scientist. His hair was thin and greying, with a thick beard and enough wrinkles to show he'd been around the block at least twice.

Cursing to himself, Singer fished a cigarette from one pocket, putting it to his lips. He cast around, obviously looking for a light, and the scientists kept their heads low.

"Aint no-one got a goddamn light?" he snapped, startling a tiny brunette walking by, who squeaked and promptly scurried the other way. Grumbling to himself, Singer leant down to use the flickering flame of a Bunsen instead, taking a few appreciative puffs.

"What do I even pay you people for?" Glancing around the room, his eyes picked out the Winchesters, and he frowned. "Someone mind tellin' me what two civilians are doin' in here?"

Sam seemed to remember himself, the smile he shot the older man practically splitting his face in two. "Dr. Singer, it's such an honor, my name is Sam Win-"

"Bobby," Singer grunted. "Should'a guessed. You two must be Mary's boys."

Sam fidgeted, fingers picking at the strap of his duffle nervously. "Yes, sir. I'm…I'm here to resume her research."

Bobby exhaled a lungful of smoke, tapping the cigarette against his lower lip thoughtfully. "I've heard good things about you, Sam. How's your Enochian?"

 _Behold, ladies and gentlemen, the nerd in all his nerdy glory_.

Sam launched into it with a smile so bright Dean felt blinded. "Olani ipamis go'ho oi'ad loagaeth ol gassagen."

Bobby smiled at that, his eyes crinkling. Suddenly the terrifying stranger disappeared, in his place a friendly man. "Faonts ge'meganza. Not bad, not bad at all."

He turned to Dean then, eyes assessing and curious as he offered his hand. "How 'bout you boy? You a scientist too?"

The hand that Dean grabbed in his was calloused and firm, strong like a soldier.

"Dean. And no sir, I'm just a grunt. I'm here to keep Sam's butt in one piece, as giant as it is."

Bobby chuckled, releasing Dean's hand. "You're your daddy's boy alright. How's that son-of-a-bitch doing anyways?"

Dean's smile faltered and Sam cut in hurriedly.

"He uh…he passed away. During the War."

Bobby dropped his cigarette to the floor, stubbing it out with his boot. "You mean murdered durin' a piss-poor excuse for a war. I'm sorry to hear that. We used to serve together back in the day."

Well that explained why he didn't fit in with the other scientists. Dean immediately liked him.

"Guess you'll be wantin' to see the lab then?" the scientist beckoned at them both, turning back to the door he had come through. "Well you're in luck today boys, we have a-"

Bobby spluttered as the door suddenly opened to unleash a whirlwind of blonde hair and white lab coat upon them.

"Beep beep scientist coming through! Outta the way, people!"

Dean caught the sudden change in Bobby's face, a softening that made the man suddenly ten years younger. With a gruff chuckle, the old scientist reached out, grapping the whirlwind by one arm.

"Now woah there, I don't remember authorisin' you in the lab."

The young woman he had caught merely looked up at him cheerily. "Well that's 'cause you didn't."

She was no older than twenty, bright blue eyes and blonde hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Under her lab coat she didn't wear the standard drab brown uniform of the other scientists. Instead, she wore jeans and a t-shirt with a brightly colored smiley face that proclaimed: Heavily armed, easily pissed.

Dean liked her already.

The young woman grinned at Bobby again, pulling her arm free and sticking her tongue out cheekily. "I do what I  _want,_  and 'aint no doggery old relic gonna tell me otherwise!"

The scientists still in the lab all gasped as one, ducking their heads when Bobby glared over at them. The blonde took it as her opportunity to escape, and darted away, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Joanna-Beth I swear to God, your mama and me taught you better than that!" Bobby bellowed after her as she disappeared back the way she came, shooting an air kiss over her shoulder as the door slid shut. With a bone-weary sigh, Bobby's shoulders slumped, rough fingers rubbing his temples.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled sheepishly. "My step-daughter, Jo. She's a technician here in the lab."

The door suddenly slid open again, and the tangle of blonde hair reappeared. "That's my  _daughter_ , Jo," she corrected, winking. "And I prefer the term: too-brilliant-that-even-the-eggheads-can't-handle-me."

Bobby glowered at her. "How 'bout the term:  _unemployed_?"

Making a face, Jo disappeared back into the safety of the lab beyond. Sighing to himself, Bobby stomped towards a bench, swiping a holopad from a stammering technician.

"That girl is gonna be the death of me one o' these days," he muttered, turning back to the Winchesters as he glanced at the holo in his hand. "Alright you two, follow me and don't touch anythin'."

The lab Bobby led them to didn't look too different from the first, maybe with a few more blinking things. Dean was no scientist; it all just looked like a bunch of Christmas lights and glowy things to him.

Sam had been oohing and aahing as expected, but then suddenly seized up, causing Dean to walk right into him.

"Sam!" he grumped, giving his brother a punch on the arm. "I know this is overwhelming your ovaries right now but for the love of  _God_ control yourself." There was no response, Sam staring dumbly in front of him, odd choking and cat-like noises rumbling in his throat.

"Sam?" Dean repeated, worried. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam slowly pointed, and Dean followed his brother's gaze, half-expecting trouble to suddenly leap out at him screaming 'GOTCHA'.

But no demon came lunging out at him. It was the figure casually reclining against one of the steel tables, legs propped up against a console, which had caught Sam's attention.

A man, he was relatively short, with wavy light brown hair, and as he read the holopad in his hands, he sucked on a lollipop nonchalantly. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of soft brown leather pants, woven leather bands wrapped around his wrists and biceps.

But it wasn't his outfit that had the Winchester's oogling.

From his bare back rose two large wings. A dappled brown and white, they reminded Dean of an owl, broad tipped and almost fluffy. They shifted as he played with the holopad, feathers rustling to the rhythm of his fingertips tapping across the smooth screen.

It was an angel. A real, living, breathing  _angel._ The first either brother had seen in person.

Well, those sad empty eyed creatures stuck in some of the seedier strip joints of the Citadel didn't count.

Bobby didn't seem as awed, tapping the creature's legs with his holopad. "Gabriel, this 'aint no livin' room. Feet off."

The angel arched an eyebrow, lips spit-slick as he pulled his sugary treat out with an audible pop. "You should know by now I don't listen to you, old man."

Bobby snorted at that, moving towards a console, poking at the holographic display. "Right. Does your brother know you're here?"

The angel shrugged, legs dropping from the console. "Eh, like he has the time to keep tabs on me, what with arguing with Lucifer all the time. I wouldn't worry."

He suddenly noticed the two gaping humans by the door and grinned, dropping the holopad with a clatter. "What's this? You bringing more humans to gawp at me, Singer?"

Sam's mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish. Dean was pretty sure he didn't look much better as the angel slid off his makeshift seat, sauntering towards them confidently. The creature barely came up to Sam's chest, as he peered up at Sam with a smirk, wings puffing.

"Wow. They grow them big on Earth," the angel grinned up at him, batting his gold eyes coyly. "I better get my climbing gear on if I'm gonna scale  _this_ tree."

With a long-suffering look towards the ceiling, Bobby swept towards them, shooing the mischievous creature away. "That's enough playin', Gabriel. This is Sam and Dean Winchester. You'll be seein' a lot of 'em, so play nice."

The angel's face changed then, something sad in his eyes. "Right. Sorry. About your mother, I mean. She was a nice lady. "

Dean swallowed at that, dipping his head in acknowledgement as he finally found his voice. "Thanks."

Sam just continued his wide eyed staring and Dean dug his elbow into his brother's side,  _hard_. Sam jumped, giving himself a little shake as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair nervously.

"I uh…this is…I mean…"

He floundered for a minute, caught unprepared meeting the creature he'd been studying for so long. The angel merely smiled up at him with caramel gold eyes, so very… _not human._  Dean wasn't sure what to say to it.

"You, you're amazing," Sam finally blurted out, and Dean could have face palmed then and there. "I mean, oh my god, you're just.  _Amazing_."

Realizing what he sounded like, Sam's face flushed red as he snapped his mouth shut in mortification.

 _Smooth, Sam. Real smooth_.

If possible, the angel's eyes brightened even more at that, a pleased hum reverberating in his throat. His wings puffed proudly, blunt tips of his long flight feathers spreading. It was like watching a bird preen, and Dean had the sudden urge to just reach out and touch, to feel if those feathers were as soft as they looked.

"Boy, you sure know how to compliment an alien, Sam," the angel purred, his hands resting on his hips as he smiled up at the taller human. "I can tell we're going to get on just  _fine_."

Bobby descended like a protective mother hen, shoving the angel forcibly towards the door. "Don't you have a home to go to? It's bad enough you break in 'ere pretty much  _every day_ , but I'm not riskin' all-out war if Michael finds out you've been hangin' out here."

"Aw you're no fun!" the angel complained, though he went willingly where Bobby shoved him, wings flapping. " _Fine._ I'm going, I'm going. See you soon handsome!"

The last was aimed towards Sam who went an even brighter red as the angel disappeared from view.

Bobby shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Don't mind Gabriel. He started hangin' out here a few years ago. Haven't been able to get rid of him since. Damned if I know how he gets in and out."

Bobby approached the console he had abandoned, flicking his fingers across the touch sensitive glass. Writing filled the screen and he highlighted a section, eyes flicking over it quickly. "Kind of don't want to get rid of him either. He's contributed so much to the project. Without him, we'd have been bust when Mary died."

"How, how did he know so much English?" Dean asked, leaving his brother to dissolve into a puddle of embarrassment. He moved to stand beside Bobby, not really understanding the numbers and equations that whizzed along the screen in front of him.

"Your mama," Bobby replied bluntly. "She started up an English school for the Ne'gassagen and taught 'em. It all fell apart when she died. Michael, the dominant male, forbade interactions 'tween the clan and us, nearly killed our research stone dead."

The scientist snorted, turning to look Dean in the eye. "But luckily for us, Gabriel is more interested in Earth than obeyin' his brother. After hangin' out here for so long, the little bastard's English is better than mine."

Sam seemed to have composed himself, clearing his throat and trying to pretend that he hadn't turned into a teenage girl only minutes ago. "Gabriel? One of the baltoh, third in line for rule of the clan, right?"

"You got it," Bobby looked pleased. "You're gonna do well here, Winchester. Mary would be proud."

A panicked looking technician hurried through the doors, her frizzy hair loose from its bun. "Sir, Dr. Singer, sir!"

Bobby actually  _growled_ at her. "What the hell is it? Can't a man go for two seconds without bein' bothered?"

She swallowed hard, practically quaking in her shoes. "I am sorry, sir, but we've just have the daily report from the main office and it would appear the Aroali study site has been destroyed. The bulldozers went in this morning and le-"

"That little  _rat!_ "

Dean winced at the bellow, taking a respectful step back from the enraged scientist. The blonde from earlier, Jo, appeared suddenly at his side. Girl had the skills of a  _ninja._

"Easy there daddy-o," she chirped, though her demeanor seemed as tense as her step-father's. "Remember, we have guests." She winked at Dean and he found himself grinning back. "And handsome ones at that."

Bobby groaned, scrubbing his face with one hand tiredly. "Jo, I swear to God…"

Knowing her time was up again, the blonde waved cheerily to them all. "Got it, make like a drummer and beat it!"

Dean watched her go, appreciating the view. She was cute, no doubt about it and-

A sharp smack against the back of his head jolted him back to the present and he turned rubbing the back of his head to stare wide-eyed at a sullen looking Bobby.

"Hey what-"

"My daughter is off limits," Bobby growled. Dean made a noise of protest as to his innocence, but the older man merely glared him down. "Off. Limits. I have a shotgun in my office and I know how to use it, Winchester."

Dean shut his mouth with a click. "Yes, sir."

Sam was silently laughing at him, the bastard.

"I gotta go. Got some corporate butt to kick," Bobby muttered. "But one of the techs will show you to your new quarters. I'll see you two bright n' early tomorrow, got it?"

"Got it," Sam confirmed, as Dean continued rubbing the back of his head sullenly. With a nod to them both, Bobby swept away in a furious ball of white. Sam watched him leave, adoration in his eyes.

"Wow. He's even more awesome in person," he sighed.

Dean grumbled to himself, hoisting his duffle on his shoulder. "Come on princess, let's go find our quarters."


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

 

Bobby Singer wasn't known for his subtlety or for pussy-footing around issues. If something pissed him off, then he'd let you know with a barrage of cursing and shouting. The soldiers who were in charge of the scientists' safety during field excursions used to joke that there were only two rules on Oadriax. The first was to do whatever Colonel Azazel told you to do. The second?

Don't  _fuck_  with Bobby Singer.

Everyone hurried to get out of the scientist's way as he barreled like an enraged bull through the sterile-white corridors. The HR offices were located on the opposite end of the building, but Bobby seemed to make it in only a few angry strides.

As he stormed into reception, several secretaries inched lower in their chairs, hiding behind their computers. It would be useless to try and stop his headlong charge, and all the personnel liked their heads where they sat.

The corporate administrator could take care of himself. Hopefully.

The metallic doors had barely slid open before Bobby shoved them aside, stomping into the luxuriously decorated office, slamming his palms flat on the large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Holopads rattled from their precariously stacked positions, yet the figure lounging in the large leather chair didn't flinch. A huge window stretched along the length of the office, looking out over the complex landing strip and beyond. The sky was darkening now, the suns beginning to set.

"You know, I used to think it was neglect, but now I see you're _intentionally_  screwin _'_  me," Bobby snarled, jabbing a finger towards the figure. "This is bullshit!"

There was a low chuckle. "Oh you'll know when I'm screwing you, darling."

Slowly the chair swiveled around and a well groomed man in a sharp black suit came into view. The Corporate administrator of the Roman Enterprises relaxed further into his chair, elbows braced on the armrests and fingers steepled against his chin. His eyes flicked towards the enraged scientist, dark red irises barely visible against the blood red color of the rest of his eyes.

"Always a pleasure to see your handsome face in my office Robert," he smiled. "Seriously, I get all tingly when you use your angry voice. But,  _really,_ stomping in here like a caveman isn't going to-"

"Dammit Crowley, your idiot gorillas  _flattened my study site_!" The bellow made the papers on the desk tremble and the secretaries cowered even further outside. "Flattened! Do you know how much work you've destroyed?"

Crowley shrugged, hands dropping to his lap. "My employers are getting anxious at our lack of progress. I needed to demonstrate we are still capable of producing."

"Demonstrate?  _Demonstrate?_ " Bobby swept his arm across the desk, sending holopads and papers flying. A coffee mug hit the carpet with a thud but didn't break, rolling to a stop at the demon's feet.

"You wiped out decades, maybe even  _centuries_ of biodiversity and for what?" Bobby snarled. "A bit o' rock?"

Crowley sighed dramatically, seemingly unperturbed by the mess the scientist had just made. "Robert, we've been over this. Do I really have to remind you what funds your studies?"

At Bobby's stormy look, Crowley rolled eyes. "Money, darling. Lots and lots of  _money_."

The demon leant forward to rest his arms on the now empty desk. "And we're here to make it. Just because you have your little project with the savages, doesn't change our main objective."

Bobby spluttered his disagreement but Crowley continued smoothly. "This planet is one of the few natural sources of achildao. Or as you and I know it,  _shit that fuels the galaxy_ ," the demon arched an eyebrow at him pointedly. "And your whole job is to help me get it. When you can't deliver, I take matters into my own hands."

"But-" Bobby tried, shoulders still shaking with anger. Crowley shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he flicked a hand at the scientist.

"No buts. Sorry about your study site. Be glad I just bulldozed a watering hole and not something the angels actually value. Speaking of which-"

The demon reached down to pluck one of the holopads from the floor. "I see the Winchesters arrived. Sammy-boy is our new big cheese and I want him out there tomorrow. Get him up to speed. We've lost enough time already."

Crowley retrieved the coffee mug and settled it back on the desk. "Relations with the natives are worsening and we need a solution before things get bloody."

Bobby crossed his arms, drawing back to glare murderously at the floor. "Yeah, that tends to happen when you bulldoze their habitat and shoot at 'em with guns."

Crowley let it slide, looking up at the scientist thoughtfully, holopad still in hand. "And speaking of shooting, how's that little firecracker you call a daughter doing? Heard she caused a ruckus the other day at the shooting range."

Blindsided by the change in topic, Bobby stared at him, uncomprehending. Crowley shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Just wondering how she's doing. Not easy, losing a mother."

Bobby stiffened, glancing away and out the huge window, shoving his hands into his lab coat pockets. "She's doin' fine," he muttered. "Fine as she can be, considerin'."

Crowley nodded thoughtfully. "Good. My condolences again by the way. I sent you a fruit basket."

"I got it," Bobby said tightly, desperately wishing he had a cigarette.

Those red eyes watched him carefully. "Humans like fruit baskets don't they?" Crowley shook his head with a low hum. "You're such a complicated species to figure out sometimes. If you were a demon I would have sent you the severed head of an enemy's first born or something."

The demon chuckled to himself at that, tapping the holopad against his chin. "Though that would be a hell of a lot of heads I'd have to get you, considering."

"What's  _that_ s'posed to mean?" Bobby scowled, fingers twitching inside his pockets. He felt a headache coming as the corporate cretin grinned up at him with a wink.

"I have a folder bursting at the seams,  _full_  of complaints filed against you." Crowley's eyes glittered. "You're not a popular man."

No new news there. Robert Singer was a damn fine scientist, but not a good team player. People just got in the damn way.

"So why not just fire me?" he muttered grumpily. "If everyone hates me so damn much."

The demon laughed, head back and eyes crinkling. "Because you're the best, you dolt, and this project  _deserves_  the best."

The holopad in Crowley's hand beeped, and he glanced at it dismissively.

"Plus, I actually  _like_ you. You're the only other bastard on this sorry planet who has the balls to stand up for anything." He tossed the holopad onto the desk, metal clattering against wood. "Just stop with the yelling and screaming ok, darling? You're scaring the kids."

With a dark glower, Bobby turned and left the office, muttering angrily. Crowley watched him leave with a smile, before swiveling back towards the window, watching as night set over his kingdom.

* * *

 

Blood.

It gathered in pools, his boots splashing droplets of red that spattered across his uniform in wet streaks. The air was thick with smoke and gunfire, screams of the dying and wounded, and Dean struggled through it all.

His palms were sweaty, the metal of his rifle slippery in his hands as he fired into the smoky air. Hel literally  _was_ hell, a sulfuric atmosphere with a sun that loomed too close to the surface. It felt like fighting in an oven, and sweat ran in torrents down his face, mixing with blood and stinging his eyes.

A demon lunged in front of him, black eyes glittering, and he cut it down with a spray of bullets, only to have another rise in its place. They swarmed down from the jagged cliff faces like locusts, more at ease in their natural environment than the sweltering humans. They descended on the small barricade, and Dean watched as a demon ripped the throat out of a downed marine, saw the purple spray of arterial blood against the red-tinged sky, felt it against his face, wet and hot.

He could taste it in his mouth, metallic and sticky, and he spat, trying desperately to get the taste out.

"First Lieutenant!"

He whipped his head forward, the inner turmoil within him calming as his father shoved through the fighting marines. John looked more rugged than he usually did, jaw line dark with stubble and face splashed with red. A slash across his nose bled sluggishly, but the man ignored it. Dean jogged over, saluting with a shaking hand.

"Major," he replied, irrationally proud of how calm it actually came out. "Orders, sir? Are fourth platoon on their way with reinforcement?"

John glanced around them, eyes narrowing as grenades exploded nearby; the sound nearly drowned out by the screaming of a machine gun.

"Just got word from the General. There will be no reinforcements, nor extraction. We're to hold this position."

Dean stared at his father with incomprehension. The barricade was already lost, every soldier knew it. The only reason they still fought was to buy time for reinforcements. If none were coming…

"He's sentenced us to death," Dean blurted suddenly, the pretenses of military conduct gone. "Dad, we can't just-"

"That's an order, Lieutenant," John rumbled emotionlessly. "And we will obey it."

A soldier reeled towards them, mouth gaping open as he stared at the empty cavity his intestines had been in before slumping to the ground at their feet. Dean watched him die absently, just another name that would be inscribed on a wall somewhere in the Citadel for civilians to gawk at. He drew his shoulders back, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, sir," he managed tonelessly. "I understand. I'll…."

John stepped towards him, shaking his head as he reached out to grab his son's shoulder.

"No," he said quietly. "No, Dean. I said we, not you.  _You_  haul ass outta here. I've arranged for a few of the wounded and higher ranking militants to return to base in the helicraft. I want you on it."

Anger rose in him, hot and heavy, and Dean found himself for the first time in his life, disagreeing with his father.

"I'm not running away," he snarled, shrugging John's hand off. "These are  _my_ men. If they die, so do I.  _Major._ "

There was something unnamable in his father's eyes. For a second, Dean thought it was pride.

"Son, this isn't a democracy. You're going. The helicraft leaves in exactly ten mi- DEAN!"

He was already running, back into the fray of battle, ignoring his father's calls. He wasn't going to run away, tail between his legs. A Winchester never had, and never would. He fired at anything and everything, desperation making his movements jerky, his reflexes slow. A hand grabbed his arm, swinging him around, and the shout in Dean's throat died, his eyes disbelieving.

Something terrible wore his mother's face, grinned at him with her mouth and flipped her blonde hair as its own. It looked down at him with eyes the color of hellfire, laughing as it gutted him like a fish, fingers slipping inside the jagged cavity of his stomach effortlessly.

" _I caught you, little rabbit,_ " it whispered with Mary's lips, and Dean could only watch in horror as it slowly ripped him apart. " _This time you won't get away."_

* * *

 

Dean snapped his eyes open, jerking up with a deep heaving gasp. Sam jumped from his position over the small sink where he had been shaving, eyes wide and hair ridiculously sleep tousled.

"Jesus, Dean!" The razor clattered against the metal sink, loud in the quiet room. "You alright?"

Disorientated, Dean stared around the small quarters, but found no evidence of demons or a battle long ago lost. A quick check of his stomach showed smooth skin, organs all where they should be. His sheets were tangled around his legs, and breathing out slowly, he reached down to free himself, shaking his head.

"Sorry, Sammy," he mumbled, his hands shaking where they rested on the covers. "I uh…bad dream."

Sam watched him for a moment longer as Dean avoided his gaze, finally freeing himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, turning back to the mirror and picking up his dropped razor. "Yeah, I know. You uh...you wanna talk about it?"

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face, padding towards the dresser they now shared and snagging a clean t-shirt.

"No," he said bluntly, slipping the shirt over his head. His ID tags gleamed up at him from the dresser, and he slid them over his head, taking comfort in their familiar metallic clinking. Most of the military had converted to under the skin chips in order to identify soldiers, but Dean had inherited his father's love of tradition. Only the real battle-hardened marines still wore ID tags, badges of honor they displayed proudly, and most only wore two.

Dean wore three.

Sam watched him in the mirror as Dean reached for his pants, shaving temporarily forgotten. "I heard you say Dad."

Dean paused, company issued khakis halfway up his legs. "What part of 'No I don't want to talk about it' didn't you get?"

Sam rolled his eyes, tapping his razor against the sink. "Whatever, jerk. But I'm here if you ever want to talk. About Dad, Mom, anything."

Dean grunted, tucking the ID tags under his shirt. "Yeah. Thanks, bitch."

A quick rummage through the small kitchenette revealed nothing appetizing. Best Dean could find were a few ration bars, and he grabbed one, ripping it open. He felt unsettled, jumpy and anxious. His leg bobbed up and down under the table as he sat, and he stared down at the sterile white table, still seeing red.

"It's just…weird you know? This is where she died."

Sam frowned at that, slowly running the razor across his jaw. The giant girl was strict with keeping his jaw clean shaven, yet let those giant caterpillar sideburns run riot? Where was the sense in that, honestly.

"She died offsite," Sam said carefully. "One of the outpost labs that isn't used anymore."

Dean growled irritably. "I  _know that_ , thank you Mr. Brainiac. I just meant…ah forget it."

He tapped his fingers to the same beat his leg bobbed, chewing sullenly on his ration bar and trying to forget scenes of blood and Hel.

"No, I get it. I do," Sam turned away from the sink, hip braced against the cabinet as he pointed the razor at his brother. "But you gotta remember Dean, I never knew her. She left when I was what…a year old? If that? I can't mourn someone I never knew. She's just Dr. Campbell to me."

Dean glared at his brother, the wrapper in his hand crinkling. "She was our  _mom_."

Sam turned back to the mirror, shrugging. "Yours maybe. She left us, Dean. She left Dad. The woman was a stranger to me."

"Doesn't mean she wasn't our mom."

The small apartment fell into a charged silence after that.

Dr. Singer… _Bobby_ ,was taking them offsite, to one of the study sites so they could get their first glimpse of Oadriax properly. Sam hurried around their small flat, stuffing books and gear into his duffle, muttering to himself and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Slowly the bag swelled larger and larger as Dean looked on, amazed it actually all fit.

He was just supposed to be on security detail, which meant minimal packing, maximum firepower. The company issued guns, but Dean had his own trusty revolver tucked into the back of his pants, the metal cool against the curve of his back.

The communicator by the door beeped and the robotic voice that droned at the two men sounded almost bored.

" _Incoming request for a Dean Winchester to report for security detail in the hanger. The Colonel wishes to speak to you."_

Sam shot him a look, but Dean ignored it, striding towards his bed. It was kind of sad that all his belongings actually fit in one army issued duffel, but he also liked it. Liked knowing he could just pick up his whole life and go. Taking a deep breath, he rummaged into its green depths, fingers closing around the familiar contours of his combat knife. Ignoring Sam's disapproving glares and loud tutting, he tucked it securely into his boot before smoothing his pants back down.

Always best to be prepared.

* * *

 

The flight hanger was a place of chaos. Shuttles and helicrafts idled, pilots and engineers scuttling back and forth shouting to each other. Metal clanged loudly, making his ears ring, and Dean edged around them as best he could.

After getting hopelessly lost amongst the giant metallic machines, he finally found a rather shapely behind, currently attached to a petite brunette that rummaged in the open engine of a helicraft on all fours. Wires and bolts were spread across the concrete floor around her; wiring spewing from the craft like metallic innards. The sharp smell of gasoline hit Dean as he approached and he wrinkled his nose unhappily.

She didn't even notice his approach, his heavy footsteps drowned out by the clanging around her. Absently she shifted her weight, sticking her backside even further in the air, and Dean briefly admired the view. After a few minutes passed and there was still no response, Dean cleared his throat, reaching out to tap the panel above her head. With an almighty curse, the woman reared up, banging her head.

" _SHIT_!"

Dean retracted his hand hurriedly, taking a step back as he watched the woman wiggle out of the rabbit hole she had made.

"Uh, sorry," he managed, trying to disguise a laugh. "You know where I can find the Colonel?"

Muttering and rubbing her head, she sank back on her haunches, wiping her hand against one thigh and leaving a trail of sticky grease. She had her glossy brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, small wisps of hair falling around her face.

"Depends," she muttered, grimacing at her now stained jumpsuit. "Who's asking?"

She straightened, rising to her feet finally as she turned her attention to Dean. The clever comeback line he had ready died in his throat, leaving him wide eyed and blustering. The woman cocked an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms across her chest. Her black eyes betrayed nothing.

"I asked you a question, soldier."

Dean shook himself. Right. He could do this. The war was long over. Demons were allies now.  _He could do this._  "I uh, Dean. Winchester."

Her tense posture relaxed at that, shoulders slumping lower. "So you're the marine that'll be flying with us," she looked him up and down, and he felt his skin crawl. "Not bad. I guess you'll do."

With a smile that didn't quite reach her ebony eyes, she offered her hand. "I'm Ruby. I fly all the science dorks around."

He forced himself to reach out and take her hand in his. The skin was soft beneath his fingertips, human-like and warm. It was misleading though. He could feel the coiled strength in her grip, the danger lurking just beneath the flimsy sham of humanity she wore.

She let go after a moment, cocking her hip. "So what can I help you with, Dean? Or are you just here to enjoy the show?"

Demons didn't miss a thing. Embarrassed, Dean turned away, glancing at the craft she had been working on. "Nice looking bird you got there."

The demon glanced back towards the work she had left. "Yeah, this here is my baby," she slapped the metallic hull proudly. "I call him Dumbo."

A loud clang towards the back of the craft drew both their attention. A scrawny looking marine with a crazy mullet struggled to heft a lethal looking machine gun into the helicraft's turret. It ground into place with a protesting screech, and Ruby craned her head to glare angrily in the human's direction.

"Ash! I swear to your stupid Earth God, if you scratch my baby again, I'm going to gut you and make a nice necklace from your innards!"

The scruffy marine shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Hell Ruby, that'd be a damn ugly necklace."

Exhaling an irritated huff of air, the demon rolled her eyes as she turned away. "Then I'll scalp you and make slippers out of that mop you call hair. We bounce at zero nine, if I see any marks on my baby-"

Ash waved her away, clicking the gun safety on. "Yeah, yeah. Slippers and innards bling, I get it."

Dean followed as Ruby motioned at him to follow, trailing after the petite brunette as she led the way past more idle crafts and machines.

"You guys are packing some heavy gear," he remarked, sidestepping a small cart carrying engine parts.

Ruby snorted. "Yeah well, we're not the only things flying around out there."

She wiped the back of her hand against her forehead, leaving a streak of black. "You ever seen a pissed off angel, Dean?"

An engineer barged past him, jolting his shoulder, and Dean glared after the man, gritting his teeth. "Can't say I have."

"Well they're positively cherub-like compared to some of the beasties that flap around," Ruby glanced at him sideways. "I'm gonna need you on a door gun on the way out, I'm a man short."

"Man? Or demon?" A small gaggle of demons eyed them as they moved by, unblinking and intimidating. The heavy weight of the revolver against his back was comforting.

Ruby sighed. "You can drop the attitude honey. You don't like us, I get it," she stopped, turning to face him fully, hands on her hips. "But a word of advice? That shit don't fly with the Colonel. He's a cold bastard, and you want him to like you, trust me. So play nice."

She jerked her head to the right, towards an open storage room. "There's your man. Good luck. Try not to piss him off."

Dean watched her as she gave him a friendly pat on the arm before sauntering away, hips swaying.

"Yeah. Thanks," he muttered, squaring his shoulders.

* * *

 

Up close, the Colonel looked like an average marine, rough around the edges, but not burly or scrawny. Just…normal. His had his back to the door as Dean entered the storage room, studying a schematic in his hand, another demon standing to attention beside him.

"You wanted to see me, Colonel?"

It was easy to fall into it, the military way.  _Feet spread, hands behind your back. Salute your superiors, eyes straight ahead._

The Colonel turned at his voice and all semblances of him being human evaporated. He was a predator, a snake in the grass. Where yesterday the angel's eyes had been a warm molten caramel, sweet and gentle, these were shards of metal, piercing and calculating. The smile the demon gave him was cold and unfeeling, his eyes pits of rusty corruption in an otherwise handsome face.

"Ah. Winchester. Just the man I wanted to see," his voice was smooth, educated. Demons had a way of speaking that could just lull you into a false sense of security, like honey and treacle with a razorblade hidden just beneath. Dean struggled to keep himself still, to prevent himself from reaching for his gun and doing something incredibly stupid.

The black eye beside the Colonel shot him a sly smile, all teeth. The guy was older, thin with short hair peppered grey and a goatee. Looked like he had just stepped out of a sleazy porno. Dean's spine stiffened even further as he felt those black eyes crawl over him, like hungry insects.

"Oh relax," the schematics were tossed onto a storage locker, the Colonel shooting him another false smile as he walked around a crate of spare helicraft parts. "I expect that kind of shit from the grunts, not you."

Dean's eyes wavered from their fixed spot on the far wall. "Sir?"

The Colonel shrugged, leaning his weight against one of the lockers, crossing his arms. "I pulled your record. Not that I had to with a name like yours. Winchester is pretty synonymous with 'ass kicking' on Hel."

Dean felt winded at that. The Colonel continued to watch him, yellow eyes bright. Knowing.

"You and your father held your own during the war," he continued. "Quite the man, John Winchester."

"The best," Dean bit out before he could stop himself. " _Sir._ "

The black eye chuckled to himself, voice reedy. "Died during the Siege of Serpent's Pass, didn't he?"

Dean didn't bother answering. The Colonel pushed away from the locker, approaching Dean.

"I can't decide if you're just ballsy as fuck, or  _stupid_  showing up here."

Dean kept his eyes straight ahead. "Sir?"

The black eye slunk forward, cocking his head. Dude had a  _serious_ creep vibe. Dean's fists itched to bury themselves in his stupid face.

"We're wolves here, little rabbit," the demon grinned. "You won't find many friends."

The Colonel halted in front of him, too close. A callused hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into those horrible eyes. Dean always thought they looked diseased, like a human with hepatitis, with a burnt yellow iris. As sulfuric as their home planet.

He was close enough that Dean could feel his breath, hot and humid against his face as the Colonel studied him. "I suggest you make me one, Winchester. A man without friends won't last long. Not out here."

After a beat, those mocking eyes left him, and the Colonel released Dean. The Colonel turned away dismissively.

"So. Down to business," he said briskly, with a clap of his hands. "You're assigned to the Angel Project as security detail. The project itself is a joke, a bunch of science majors who think they can just go out there and hug everything they see and it'll all work out. Maybe we'll braid the angels' hair and dance around a tree."

Slowly the demon turned back, jaw clenched as the black eye tittered.

"But I live in the real world. And in the real world, hugging doesn't solve  _shit_. I want you to walk like a science nerd, talk like a science nerd, but inside you are a  _soldier._ You infiltrate those winged bastards and you find out their weaknesses."

Dean shifted his weight, eyes burning holes in the wall as he avoided both demons' gazes. "I wasn't aware we were at war, Sir."

The Colonel laughed at that, hearty chuckles as he clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Oh, Winchester. Of course we are. We're  _always_  at war. They have what we need and we're going to take it. Only difference is whether it'll be a huge bloodbath, like Serpent's Pass, or peaceful."

It took every muscle to keep himself still as the Colonel tightened his hand on Dean's shoulder, fingers squeezing him.

"Choose the battlefield for me, Winchester," the Colonel shrugged. "Personally, I would love a bit of bloodshed, but you know what those bleeding heart types are like. Not like you and me."

"Sir?"

"Oh come now,  _Dean,_ " the sound of his name rolling off that tongue made Dean flinch, teeth grinding together hard. "We're killers. That's what we do, and we're damn good at it. So, if you can't give me a peaceful solution, just…give me something to kill."

Dean squared his shoulders, refusing to meet those laughing yellow eyes with his own. "Am I dismissed, Sir?"

The Colonel waved his hand dismissively. "As long as we're clear, soldier. Report back to me after the excursion today. And I expect a  _full_ report."

Dean forced himself to salute, palms sweaty. Turning on his heel, he started for the door, mind screaming to just run, to get away as fast as possible. With jerky steps, he traced his way back through the hanger, relaxing as he drew further away from the Colonel.

As he ducked behind an out of service shuttle, an arm suddenly snaked around him from behind, tightening across his throat. Choking, Dean grabbed at it, but was forcibly slammed up against the cold metal of the shuttle, a taller body pressing up against his back.

The side of his face stung from the impact, pressed tightly against the metal as he struggled to buck the figure off. A breathless chuckle tickled his ear, a mouth pressed close.

"Is that any way to behave, rabbit?"

Dean's brain short-circuited, his body jerking and bucking in an attempt to dislodge the demon. The black eye from the Colonel's hanger choked him harder, one hand stealing down and fingers slipping beneath the t-shirt at Dean's back. Fingers danced along his spine as Dean struggled, brushing against the unyielding metal of the revolver.

"The Colonel doesn't like it when his soldiers don't obey, Dean. You'd do well to remember that."

The demon's fingers closed around the gun, teasing it free of Dean's jeans. Dean slumped to the ground, throat burning as he gulped in breaths as the demon released him. The demon smiled down at him, revolver in one hand.

"Oh Dean. Trying to play the big boy are we?"

Dean glared up at him murderously. " _Fuck…you_ ," he wheezed, throat throbbing.

The demon looked pleased.

"Well this  _will_ be interesting. Don't disappoint the Colonel, Dean. Otherwise things might get…messy," he leaned down and Dean couldn't stop his full body flinch. Those black eyes were positively  _beaming_ at his response, the demon tapping Dean's stinging cheek with the barrel of the gun.

"Hop to it, rabbit. I'll be seeing you around."

The demon left him there, ashamed and heaving as the demon's laughter rang in his ears.

The lines of battle had been drawn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

 

The twin suns were already high in the endless blue sky when the helicraft finally took off.

Dean sat by the turret, gun metal warm under his hands as he dangled his legs out the open door. A thick strap kept him secured even as the warm breeze ruffled through the helicraft, and he relaxed a little, relishing the feeling of real air against his face. He didn't mind this kind of flying, where he could see the lush green forests of Oadriax beneath and sky above. His throat was still tight, bruised inside, and the cool air felt nice as he breathed in and out.

They passed over a clear blue body of water and a flock of birds took flight, squawking up at the craft angrily. The sun danced off their bright purple plumage, two sets of leather wings moving independently from one another as they flapped towards safer waters. Sam grinned, leaning over Dean with his camera, squinting in the bright sun.

"Oh my god! This is…this is amazing!"

The wind snatched Sam's breathless shout away, his long hair whipping in all directions. With a roll of his eyes, Dean hooked his fingers into the waistband of Sam's jeans, making sure his little brother wasn't about to take a nosedive into infinity. The giant dork had been like a hyperactive kid while they were getting ready, and Dean hadn't the heart to confide in him about the Colonel or creepy demons. Let the kid have his fun. Dean was a big boy and could deal with his own problems.

Safely strapped into his own seat, Bobby watched the two amusedly. The scientist had left his lab coat back at the base, choosing instead a more comfortable t-shirt and jeans. A tattered baseball cap was smashed low on his head and the scientist tugged it lower over his eyes with a wry chuckle.

The trees they passed were ancient, far larger than any tree found on Earth, towering high above them like colossal giants. The blades of the helicraft shook their branches and leaves, swirling the humid mist that rose from the plants below.

Sam finally allowed himself to be pulled back into the helicraft, sitting down with a smile that practically split his face in two.

Ruby flicked a few switches, glancing back towards Dean. "Hold on, we're landing!"

There were a few tense moments where Dean was sure they were going to crash into a tree, but the demon got them down intact.

As soon as the wheels hit the ground, Dean was out and scanning the area for hostiles, gun sweeping in a wide arc. Ruby had chosen a relatively clear thicket, probably the only open spot in an otherwise impenetrable canopy of trees.

After a quick survey of the area, Dean nodded towards Ruby, who killed the engines. The engines died down with a whine and as they stilled completely, the forest came alive once again.

The air thickened with the calls of birds and insects humming. Wet heat pressed in around them as bright flowers splashed with red and purples winked out at them from the safety of the tall grasses.

Sam fell out of the helicraft in a mess of overeager limbs. Bobby hopped down more gracefully, shooting an affectionate smile towards the awed xenobiologist. The nerd was overwhelmed, turning in a huge circle as he gazed up at the huge trees, eyes wide and disbelieving. With a chuckle, Bobby clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, kid. Lots more to see."

Bobby led the way, Dean close behind as he scanned the plants around them. Long grass trailed against his thighs as he moved, vines snagging his boots. Something rustled in the canopy overhead, and Dean wasted no time, swinging his rifle around and aiming.

A lemur-like creature stared back, huge brown eyes curious as it cocked its head at him. With a sigh, Bobby turned to fix Dean in a glare.

"Itchy trigger-finger there, son?"

The monkey thing chattered loudly, swinging its way back into the safety of the forest. Dean lowered his gun sheepishly.

"Sorry, sir. Just keeping alert."

Sam was still staring up at the huge trees around them, bag slung haphazardly across one shoulder. Dean reached out to pull him along, pushing him none-too gently towards Bobby.

"How will they know we're here?" Sam blinked, finally paying attention to where he was walking. "The angels I mean."

Bobby shrugged, picking his way through the tall grass. An insect latched onto his leg and he flicked it away dismissively. "Probably watching us right now."

Dean scanned the trees around them, half expecting to hear the rustle of feathers. For a moment, he thought he saw a dark shadow flit between the ferns, but then it was gone.

Unnerved, he quickly followed after Bobby.

 

* * *

 

God but science was boring.

Dean watched over the scientists absently, rifle held loosely in his hands as he leant against the rough thick bark of a tree. Sam was crouched low over one of the huge tree trunks. Bobby settled beside him. From Dean's spot, it looked like they were just poking the tree.

Sam blew his hair out of his eyes, smiling as he continued to poke the root with what Dean thought was just another stick. "Wow, it's that fast?"

Bobby nodded proudly, pushing his baseball cap back to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Yep. It's that fast. Amazin' isn't it? Now, if you just grab the transduc-"

With a roll of his eyes, Dean turned away from the geek fest, letting their voices fade into a steady murmur behind him. The area seemed safe enough, no reason he couldn't check out the local nature himself.

He hummed to himself as he slowly moved around the tree trunk, one hand trailing against the rough bark. An insect bumped into his cheek, plump and lazy in the mid-day heat. He swatted at it half-heartedly, and it cheerfully hummed back at him, flying drunken cart loops away into the surrounding vegetation.

It took him a good few minutes to get fully around the massive tree trunk and as he pushed through a thick wall of fern, he gawked in surprise at the new life he had found.

"Oh wow."

A small waist high forest of fungus-like plants spread before him. Slinging the rifle across his back, Dean approached them, smiling. Like weird exotic mushrooms, they rose from thick stalks in the ground, into a broad cap. Their skin was pink and velvety looking, and as Dean approached, the plants shivered as if aware of his presence among them. Curious, he reached out to touch one.

The pad of his finger had barely brushed it, but the plant suddenly reacted, retracting itself into the ground quickly with a loud 'thunk'. Surprised, Dean took a step back, jostling another one which set off a chain reaction, all the plants disappearing with a dull hollow sound.

"Woah," Dean grinned. "Never seen a…oh crap."

What he had mistaken for a big rock behind the mushrooms, moved.

Disgruntled its nap had been disturbed, the animal rose to its full height, snorting angrily. A solid grey wall of muscle with two black beady eyes, it turned its beefy head to fix the human in a grumpy glare. Dean scrambled to swing his rifle around, and the creature trumpeted at the sound, the ground quaking where it stamped its thick feet.

 _Rhino._ Dean thought dumbly.  _How do you take down a rhino?_

The grasses to Dean's right rustled, and Bobby tripped into view, slinging his arm out to stop Sam from toppling forward.

" _Don't shoot_!" the scientist hissed, eyes wide. "Don't shoot, you'll just piss 'im off."

Dean watched the creature as it did a half charge forward, bright feathers aggressively flared along the crest of its head.

"It's already pissed off!" he snapped back, palms sweaty and heart racing. "Not much  _more_  pissed it can get!"

Bobby shot him a clear  _you're-an-idiot-and-you're-going-to-die_ , look. "It's a territorial display. Just, stand your ground."

The creature trumpeted again, feathers fluttering angrily as it scraped one massive foot against the damp grass.

"Well great, what should I do?" Dean demanded, voice hitching. " _Dance_ with it?"

"Try a waltz," Sam suggested, and Dean had to stop himself from throwing the gun at his brother's head.

Before he could seriously contemplate that course of action however, the rhino was on the move, barreling towards him and trampling the grass in its wake. He was going to be a Dean-shaped pancake in the next ten seconds.

_Here lies Dean Winchester, stupid bastard got trampled by a rhino, serves him right._

Fuck that. He had to make Sam pay for that whole dancing comment.

Flinging his arms up, Dean took a few steps forward, shouting hoarsely. The rhino drew up just short of flattening him completely, slowly backing up with distressed snorts.

"Ha!" Dean shot a grin towards his brother. "I'm a regular Dr. Doolittle!"

But Sam wasn't paying attention to him, eyes focused somewhere just beyond him. Bobby looked pale, mouth opening and closing as he shakily pointed behind Dean. A quick glance behind him revealed another creature. Something big with teeth.

Lots and lots of teeth.

Dean stood perfectly still, rifle creaking in his hands.

"Run?" he whispered loudly, and his heart sank as Bobby nodded once sharply.

"Run. Definitely run."

 

* * *

 

Let's go to Oadriax, Sam said. It'll be  _fun,_ Sam said.

Grasses slapped against his legs as Dean ran, lungs burning as he ducked through dense trees and tore through thickets of ferns. Small creatures went scattering in all directions in front of him, hoots of alarm ringing through the treetops. The cat-like thing barreled after him, batting branches and plants out of its way like it was just a game, and Dean was the squeaking mouse. It was all corded muscle and teeth, and it wanted him as dinner.

A fallen tree trunk blocked his path up ahead, and Dean took a deep breath, trying to blink the sweat from his eyes. He sprinted towards it, everything around him just a green blur as he slapped his free hand down onto the rough bark. Using the momentum, he managed to vault over the dead tree, feeling air whistle mere inches from his back as the creature slammed one thick paw down. A talon caught in the cuff of his pants; the material ripped away easily.

Dean shouted encouragement at his legs to move faster.

Something caught his ankle and he went down hard, face planting into a mushroom that helpfully spewed gunk at him. The rifle went clattering away, and luckily the cat thing went after it, drawn by the shiny metal. Hurriedly rubbing his eyes clear of warm and sticky mushroom gunk, Dean scrambled to all fours, ready to make another mad dash into the undergrowth.

A massive tree loomed above him to his right. Its roots had eroded away the soil and now formed an ancient scraggle of exposed knots and tangles. It formed a small cage, and Dean threw himself into it, just as the creature slammed into the wall of roots behind him, baying its outrage. Dead leaves squelched underfoot, musty and sweet smelling as Dean tried to back away from it, kicking out at the thing's broad head with his boot.

It snarled at him, spittle dripping thick and viscous from its jaw, and Dean gagged at the dank breath that it panted into his face. His back slammed up against the tree itself, and he sat there gasping, watching as the creature tried to hook its paw through the network of roots. Judging by the thing's strength, it would figure it out before too long.

"Just once, I wouldn't mind something  _not_ trying to kill me," he told it breathlessly as it savaged the roots in its way.

It screeched at him, burning eyes furious. A sharp crack off to Dean's left suddenly caught its attention, and it withdrew, backing away from the sizeable hole it had made. Dean seized the opportunity to scramble away, dragging himself out of the root cage as the creature raged at something else nearby. Splinters dug into his hands as he pulled himself free, but he ignored the pain, stumbling away on shaking and exhausted legs.

There was blood roaring in his ears as he pushed through a dense wall of vines, cursing as it wound around his arms. He could still hear the creature baying for blood, and he panicked, throwing himself forcefully against the veins. They snapped under his weight and he tumbled forward, the ground disappearing beneath him.

The roaring intensified, and Dean got his first look at eternity. A waterfall dropped below him, spewing into a deep turquoise lake, and for a split second he felt like Wily Coyote, legs spinning and waiting for the inevitable moment where gravity would decide to kick in.

"OH SH-"

Gravity latched onto him gleefully, and Dean tumbled down into the waterfall's frothy depths.

 

* * *

 

Sam scanned the treetops below, holding onto the craft with one hand as he cupped the other to his mouth. His hair whipped around crazily in the gale the helicraft blades kicked up, cheeks stinging.

"DEAN!"

The sky had shifted to an ominous purple as the suns set on the horizon. Already the night calls of several Kervianopta lilted through the air, mournful songs not helping Sam's frazzled nerves.

Trust Dean to spend  _five minutes_ on an alien planet, and have something already trying to kill him. Typical. It would have been hilarious, except…

Dean hadn't come back.

After waiting and searching the nearby area for any signs of Dean and his Vniglag admirer, everyone slowly realized that wherever the two had gone, it wasn't anywhere they could reach. Dean was lost and alone on a hostile alien planet, and they were going to have to leave him there.

" _DEAN_!"

Ruby turned to look at him, her black eyes carefully blank behind the visor of her helmet. "I'm sorry Sam, but we're gonna have to call it. We're not allowed to run night ops, too dangerous," she gave him a half-hearted smile, turning back to her controls and flicking the searchlight off. "He's going to have to make it on his own until morning."

Bobby shook his head, slowly taking his cap off to rub his forehead tiredly. He knew what the odds of survival for Dean were. "He 'aint gonna make it to morning."

"He'll make it," Sam hissed, refusing to give up scanning the ground for any signs of his brother. The helicraft banked left, and Sam slowly strapped himself back in, hands shaking. "You don't know Dean like I do."

Bobby sighed. "I guess that's true. If Dean is anythin' like your daddy, he'll be just fine. But son, you gotta also be realistic 'bout this. Oadriax at night 'aint some place you wanna be. Especially if you don't know what you're doin'."

Sam avoided his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"He'll make it," he repeated. "He has to."

 

* * *

 

Godammit, Dean was so  _screwed_.

Luckily nothing had tried to eat him when he hit the water, and it had been deep enough that he didn't break anything. Dean had hauled himself onto the rocky embankment, thanking any God he could think of with deep heaving gasps that he had survived. But now he was reevaluating that gratitude.

He was stuck on a hostile alien planet, wet, no gun, lost, and by the looks of it, no  _goddamn luck whatsoever._

The beauty of Oadriax Dean had admired earlier in the light of day was now sinister, frightening. He jerked at every sound, every rustle. Hell, even the bugs seemed to be mocking him, buzzing in amusement as he stumbled by. He had fished the combat knife from his boot and brandished it in front of him nervously, swiping at shadows as nighttime slowly fell.

"I need some light or something," he muttered, after trying to attack the fifth leaf of the day. He was cold and tired, clothes clammy against his skin and weighing him down. His teeth chattered loudly, and he rubbed his arms wearily. Survival 101, he needed heat if he was going to make it through the night. A fire.

"Where am I gonna find a light?" Dean gazed exasperatedly up at the dark canopy above. "Mind throwing me a bone here?"

His pocket clicked, metal shifting against metal, and Dean paused. With a frown, he shoved his hand into his back pocket, fingers closing around familiar smooth metal. His legs went wobbly with relief, muscles sore and strained from his leisurely jog through the forest earlier.

"Ok, I take it back, hallelujah, praise baby Jesus and all that jazz."

Dean pulled his father's lighter free, smiling at it. He had taken to carrying the old scuffed thing around as a good luck token but had forgotten about it. Now if only the water hadn't fucked it up completely…

The gloom retreated as a lick of flame burst into life with a click. Dean grinned at it, feeling relatively optimistic.

"Lighter, you're my new best friend."

It took some searching in the dark for some dry enough twigs and grass, but he managed it even as his fingers shook. He settled into an old rotten trunk, sad assortment of twigs in front of him. The old trunk formed a little cone around him, providing some security at least, and he tucked himself inside, trembling hands eventually managing to spark a pathetic fire. Dean hunkered down, arms wrapped around his bent knees in an attempt to keep warm. The flames spluttered, and with a muttered curse, Dean reached for another twig. He could barely feel the rough wood under his fingertips as he poked the fire again, trying to encourage it to light properly.

Finally, slowly, the orange flame consumed the wood, burning brighter and warmer. Dean cackled triumphantly, though the sound was weak at best.

"I am man, bitches! Hear me roar!"

Chuffing laughter echoed through the trees, high pitched and keening. With a curse, Dean scrambled to his feet, snatching his knife up.

Iridescent yellow eyes gleamed back at him from the darkness, and Dean held the shaking knife in front of him.

"Can't a guy catch a break?" he asked wearily. "Come  _on_ , I've had a hell of a day."

Dog-like creatures slunk through the darkness towards him, separating from the shadows. Dean counted at least a dozen, maybe more, and he eyed them warily as they stole closer. They were small, jackal like animals that only reached his knees, but their mouths were wide and razor sharp as they snarled at him. Their waxy skin glimmered blue in the firelight, as their voices rose in volume, yipping and chattering to one another like hyenas. Probably each claiming the choicest bits of Dean to eat later.

Great.

They lunged forward as one, hoping to overwhelm him, and Dean sliced the knife in front of him, unwilling to move away from the safety of his small fire. They darted away again, huffing to one another as they circled his camp. One darted in to try and grab his ankle, and Dean sliced downwards with the knife, relishing the yip of pain that followed.

"No Dean on the menu tonight!" he called after it triumphantly as it skittered away. "So you can just go tell the rest of your little-OOF!"

Darting in like lightning, one latched onto his ankle, pulling hard as another slammed into his chest. His exhausted legs folded and Dean fell to the ground on his back, head slamming against the wood of his rough shelter. His vision went black for a moment, and one creature went for his face, white teeth snapping mere millimeters from his nose. Dimly, Dean realized his fingers were digging into the scruff its neck, fingers slipping along its waxy skin as he tried to hold it away from him. His boots scrabbled in the damp mulch beneath them, the sweet-sickly smell of decaying vegetation choking him. His boot hit the sad assortment of twigs he had gathered for the fire, and his tiny blaze died with a spluttering hiss, plunging them all into darkness.

The dog thing lunged lower, needle-like teeth piercing Dean's left shoulder. The sudden lance of burning pain snapped him lucid, and Dean yelled hoarsely shoving it away. It moved back enough to let him bring his knife in, stabbing down forcefully into the creature's side. Hot blood splashed over his hand, and Dean stabbed it again, twisting upwards with practiced ease. With a growl, the animal died, jaw loosening on his shoulder, and Dean shoved it away with a grimace.

Something slick and warm sluiced down his arm, and Dean slapped a hand to his shoulder, trying to stem the flow.

_Blood. My blood._

The little bastards could smell it, smell how wounded he was. They went into a frenzy, just black smudges in the darkness as they circled him. Dean tried to get to his feet, stand and at least put up a fight, but his head was pounding, his limbs numb. One suddenly lunged in the darkness, jaw wide and teeth ready to sink into the soft skin of his throat. It would tear him open, rip out his very life force and that would be the end of him. Sam would probably never find him, his bones scattered across the forest by animals until Dean was a part of Oadraix itself; yet another statistic for the corporate big wigs to tsk over. Dean Winchester survived Hel just so he could be mauled to death by a jackal.

Stupid bastard.

Dean braced himself for it, expecting death to arrive in a hot spray of blood. He'd been flirting with the horseman for so long, it seemed fair enough to give in to him now.

But no skeletal dude in a black robe materialized. His throat stayed where it was.

With a pained whine, the jackal creature slumped to the ground, limbs twitching. A feathered arrow quivered in its side, rattling against its ribs as the creature sucked in one last rattling breath. Dean stared at it uncomprehending, blinking dumbly as the dogs voices around him erupted into panicked barking. His heart pounded behind his eyes, vision greying and fuzzy.

A shadow swept through the darkness, the dogs screeching as they were hit away, small shapes retreating back into the forest, howling and whining. One remained by Dean, unwilling to give up such easy prey, and it was buffeted away, sent careening into a tree. A sharp snap signaled its premature end, its siblings disappearing further into the undergrowth, tails between their legs.

Keeping his hand pressed to his shoulder, Dean shuffled backwards weakly. His knife lay forgotten on the ground, and his head dropped forward heavily.

"Stay, stay back," he growled at the approaching dark shape. It was distorted, huge and looming in his drooping vision. "I…I'm warning you."

He could feel a hand, warm fingers touching his bleeding shoulder carefully. Another touched his face, fingertips brushing against his cheek. Something soft and strong enveloped him, folding around his slumped body and pulling him close. Dean's cheek pressed against a warm body, and he shuddered, teeth chattering as something smooth trailed against his arms.

" _Rest_ ," a deep voice murmured against his hair, and Dean exhaled shakily, already slipping into the darkness. " _Rest, toltorg_."

 

* * *

 

Like always, Dean dreamt of war.

A grenade shattered the earth beside him, showering him with hot dirt as he barreled through the smoke. The screams of the dying echoed around him, but instead of demons clambering among them with too sharp teeth and glowing eyes, cat monsters and jackals danced through the smoke. They sang a triumphant song of bloodthirst as they tore through the soldiers, Dean a scrambling infant in their midst.

Sharp pain burst through his shoulder, and Dean fell, knees slamming into the ground. He could hear his dad shouting his name as the creature that felled him turned his face towards it.

Mary's face was burnt, flesh peeling in black strips as she smiled at him with clear eyes.

" _Dean, honey, it's time to wake up."_

* * *

 

Dean jolted awake to a loud squawk in his ear. Sluggishly, his brain struggled to catch up with him, and slowly he sat up, blinking.

A brightly colored bird stared back at him, plumage a mess of reds and blues. Two black beady eyes watched him accusingly, and the lilac feathers at its throat puffed as it opened its black beak to screech at him again. Dean glared at it blearily, rubbing his eyes.

"Sam, there's a parrot in our-"

The parrot glowered at him fiercely, and Dean trailed off. He could feel sun at the back of his neck, weakly filtering through the green canopy overhead.

He wasn't in his room. This was…this was…

"SHIT."

He scrambled backwards, away from the bird. His back hit solid bark, and he glanced upwards to see that yep, he was in a tree. Turning back to scowl at the parrot, he pointed at it angrily.

"I swear to God, if you try to eat me I will kick your feathered ass right off this…uh…"

A quick glance down confirmed his fears. He was on a branch. In a tree.

Off the ground.

The parrot chirped at him, and Dean groaned, burying his face in his hands as he kicked one leg out at the bird sullenly.

"Can't I just die in peace?" he muttered. "Why me?"

His shoulder throbbed, and Dean winced, dropping his hands to crane his face towards what would probably be a horrifically mangled shoulder. His fingers found the tear in his shirt, and slipped through the tattered fabric to prod gently at the skin below. To his amazement the skin was pink and tender, not torn and bloody. His shirt was stiff with dried blood but the wound was healed.

Huh. That was new.

The branch beneath him shivered, wobbling suddenly. With a croak, the parrot flapped away in a flurry of color, and Dean petulantly made a face at it.

"Yeah you fly off! Don't think that I-"

The leaves of the tree shivered, and Dean suddenly realized why the parrot left.

An angel gracefully padded towards him, bare feet silent against the bark of the tree. His wings were relaxed, drooping low on either side of him and soaking up the weak sunlight. The feathers looked black but shimmered raven blue in the light, long flight feathers trailing behind him.

A rough looking bow was slung over his shoulder, and in his arms, the angel carried an assortment of odd looking fruits. Wordlessly, he dropped them at Dean's feet.

"Ol," the angel said gruffly, blue eyes cool and flat.

Dean just gawked at him some more. With an irritated grumble, the angel sat down, wings folding against his back. Reaching for something that looked like a spikey melon, he tapped it against the branch hard, breaking open the shell and beginning to peel with quick jerky movements.

Like Gabriel, he wore some sort of animal leather leggings, light beige and adorned with wooden beads and interwoven bands. A dark brown leather band was cinched around one bicep, stretching as he worked on the fruit. He was pale, with a mess of dark hair that would make any girl swoon. Lithe and slim, he was smaller than Dean but more defined with a chiseled jaw and features. Shit, he was a regular Michelangelo, and Dean was painfully aware of his stinky, grimy self in comparison.

He cleared his throat, watching the angel's long fingers as they peeled the melon effortlessly.

"I uh…thanks. You got a name?"

The angel said nothing, merely pushing the now peeled fruit into Dean's hands. It was wet and sticky, but Dean's stomach voiced its joy at the prospect of food. The angel ignored him, grabbing another melon and working on it. Desperately hoping the fruit wouldn't somehow come to life and kill him, Dean brought a piece to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste it briefly.

The fruit was cool against his tongue, sharp and tangy like a grapefruit. After a moment's hesitation, Dean popped the whole thing into his mouth, chewing cautiously. Not bad. Not exactly a cheeseburger, but it would do. The angel glanced up to watch him as he ate, Dean's stomach rumbling happily inside him, enjoying something healthy for a change.

Sam would be so proud.

He polished off the melon quickly, and wordlessly the angel handed him another. They sat together, eating in silence. Taking a quick stock of himself, Dean was surprised to feel the lighter still in his pocket, his knife carefully sheathed in his boot.

"So…Hi," Dean tried again, and the angel paused his eating to look up. Man, but his eyes were blue. Dean's previous experience with angels had only extended to seeing a few porn holos with them, maybe a poster or two with a well-endowed female angel doing a strip tease. Angels were prized in the sex trade and now Dean could see why. Were all angels  _ridiculously_ good-looking? He'd have to ask Sam about that.

"You saved my ass didn't you?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Last night. I don't know why but, thanks."

A muscle in the angel's jaw tensed, cool eyes suddenly sparking with anger. "You, you are like  _pashs,"_  he suddenly spat, startling Dean. " _Child_. Running around crying."

Dean glared at him, surprise over hearing English momentarily overtaken by outrage. "Hey, there was  _no_ crying. I was doing perfectly fine until-"

" _Nidali_!"

Dean fell silent, eyes wide as the angel seemed to puff up, wings twitching.

"You do not belong here," he said lowly, eyes flashing. Dude had a voice that could make women's panties just  _fly_ off. Jesus. "You are  _toltag._  From Earth."

"Damn right I don't belong here," Dean muttered, rising to his feet. He swayed momentarily and the angel twitched as if to lunge forward, but stayed where he was. "I got chased by a big ass cat, fell down a waterfall and then got jumped by a pack of jackals. I might as well be wearing a friggin' 'Hello, I'm a tourist, please eat me' t-shirt."

He couldn't see the ground, just a lot of branches and leaves, but there was  _no_ way he was sitting up here with a pissy angel. Dean dug his fingertips in to the rough bark, testing the strength of a limb a few inches lower with his feet. It held and Dean slowly shuffled his way down onto it.

"And  _that-"_ he lowered himself again, boots scrabbling against another branch lower down. "Was without trying. You think I _want_ to be alone out here?"

The angel unfolded his legs, getting to his feet as he watched Dean struggle to try and climb down. The first few branches were overgrown and Dean struggled through the vegetation, batting away leaves, but eventually the branches spread out and he was able to move more freely. The tree had dark, irregular bark, lending his boots more purchase, and once he got a bit lower he could finally see the ground.

Orange buds along the branches shivered as he disturbed them, emitting a sharp smell that reminded him of pineapple, and he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. With a rustle of feathers, the angel descended, touching down easily and gazing up at him. Dean twisted, ignoring the slight twinge in his shoulder as he did so, shimmying down the last few feet.

"And if I'm such a cry-baby, why did you even save me?"

Grass rustled underfoot as he finally dropped to the ground, boots kicking up mulch. He brushed himself down, reassuring himself again that he was actually in one piece.

"You…" the angel frowned, watching him as he fussed over his torn shirt. "You are brave. But  _stupid._ Reckless and arrogant."

Dean snorted, looking back up at his feathered savior. "You been talking to Sam? You sound just like him."

The forest was warm and inviting now that night has passed, chirping cheerfully to him as cast around. The vegetation was thick, but traversable, if only he knew where he was going-

"Sam?" The angel had his head cocked like a curious cat, eyes no longer flat and angry. Dean shrugged, poking a hanging vine that trailed down from the canopy.

"Yeah, my brother. He's a scientist at the complex. We got here yesterday an-"

A sharp tug on his arm spun him around, air leaving his lungs in a startled gasp. The angel's fingers dug into his bicep  _hard_ , eyes shards of splintering ice as they bore into his own, mere inches away. Dean tugged but the angel barely budged, and a sudden jolt of genuine fear rose in his throat.

" _Let go,_ " his voice was hoarse, wavering even to his ears as Dean tried to pull away. The sheer strength was unnerving, far too reminiscent of another creature he'd rather not think about, slamming him up against a shuttle. " _Godammit,_  let me go!"

As if slapped, the angel let go, taking a step back. Those serious eyes left his face, zeroing in around his neck, and Dean felt like he could breathe again. He rubbed his arm, scowling for good measure as his heart kicked against his ribs.

"Hey Handsy Mc.Handerson, I know you're new to the whole human thing but grabbing people?  _Not cool."_

The angel was ignoring him, and Dean glanced down to see what was so interesting about his chest.

His ID tags had escaped his shirt.

Dean grabbed them self-consciously, thumb immediately rubbing the third tag that hung down from the others. The body-warmed metal was familiar, and his thumb traced the letters even as he hurriedly pushed them back under his shirt.

"Dean."

His name echoed around them, the forest seeming to quiet for a moment as Dean jerked his surprised gaze back to the angel. Those big blue eyes were back studying his face, searching for confirmation. "Dean Winchester."

Dean could only stare at him blankly, surprised into silence. The angel didn't seem to have much of a problem with that, staring at him right back, barely blinking. It was like a freaking staring contest he had no chance of winning, and finally having too much, Dean dropped his gaze, concentrating somewhere around the angel's jaw.

"How did you know that?" he asked, voice rough and low.

The angel glanced away, wings twitching. Out of the sunlight they looked black, the shimmering blue and green hues not visible. One wing rubbed against the other nervously, feathers puffing and Dean scored it as a tiny victory. About time the feathery bastard felt uncomfortable.

"I will take you to Michael," he finally said, voice like gravel. "He will know what to do."

Dean blinked as the angel promptly darted away into the foliage, expecting him to follow. He sighed to himself, throwing his hands up.

"Great, yeah,  _more_ unsocial angels," he muttered, picking his way through the vegetation in the direction the angel had gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

 

There was a rock in his boot. A big, painful, freaking  _boulder_ burrowing itself into the fleshy pad of his heel.

Dean growled to himself, giving his leg an infuriated shake for the hundredth time. He couldn't tell exactly how long he had been tromping around after the angel, but was sore enough to know it had been a good few hours. He was tired, hungry, and had had  _enough_ of this stupid forest on this stupid planet.

"So you got a name?" A scaly winged insect bumped into Dean's cheek, buzzing angrily, and he slapped it away with a yelp. The angel looked back at him irritably, and Dean smoothed his shirt down nonchalantly, desperately hoping the bug hadn't been poisonous.

"Or should I just keep calling you 'angel'?"

The angel snorted, merely folding his wings close against his back as he turned away, moving through the dense vegetation gracefully. Bastard looked perfectly at home, compared to Dean's bumbling self.  _Sam_  was the clumsy one, not Dean. Dean was the suave, cooler older brother who could make any woman swoon. Not the flailing idiot.

He kept telling himself that, even as he tripped over a root and face planted into the damp leaves of the forest floor.

They trekked onwards, a tense silence stretching between them. The forest was alive around them; a troop of the strange monkey things swinging overhead with loud chatters. He spotted a few youngsters clinging to the backs of the adults, their huge eyes staring down at Dean curiously. He bet asking for a piggy back from his feathered companion was probably out of the question.

"Castiel," the angel muttered suddenly, pushing aside a thick leafy shrub that promptly smacked Dean in the face when he let go. "I am called Castiel."

Dean spat the plant out, glaring at the back of the angel's head viciously as he collected himself. "Casteel? That's a weird name."

"Cast- _iel_ ," the angel corrected. "And I would not judge,  _Dean._ "

Dean hiked his legs over a fallen tree trunk, startling a rat thing that screeched alien expletives at him before scurrying back into the safety of the dim forest. "Dean is a perfectly normal name where I'm from.  _Distinguished_ even."

Ok that was lie, but the alien pigeon man didn't need to know that.

They reached a huge fallen tree, and the angel- _Castiel_ \- easily fluttered his wings once to get onto it. It took Dean slightly longer to scramble his very grounded human form on top of it, but he managed; ligaments snapping and joints creaking.

Panting harshly, he bent over as he reached the top of the log, resting his hands on his thighs. "Hey man, I gotta take a break. I'm wiped."

Castiel turned towards him, eyes flashing. "We must continue. We cannot stay."

Dean exhaled, straightening with a wince. His back twinged unhappily. "Yeah, well, you weren't battling cat monsters and waterfalls. My shoulder got torn to hell which, by the way, seems suspiciously fine now."

Ha, got him. Castiel looked uncomfortable, eyes darting away.

"We must continue," he insisted again. "If we delay, then-"

Dean missed the last part. An arrow thunked hollowly into the thick bark only inches from his boot, and startled, Dean took a step back. He pinwheeled alarmingly as he teetered on the edge of the trunk, and though the angel lunged for him, he toppled over backwards. He slammed into the ground, ribs creaking as his spine groaned. Winded and stunned, he lay on his back, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, struggling to breathe.

The ground rumbled beneath him and somehow, Dean rolled over onto his stomach, lungs burning as his fingers scrabbled against his boot to grab his knife.

Angels emerged from the trees around him, all with bows drawn. Some were mounted on strange armored creatures with way too many legs, far too similar to the cat monster that had tried to eat him. The creatures brayed to one another, and their riders reined them in, shouting.

Finally managing to get his bruised lungs cooperating, Dean tried to get to his feet but Castiel was suddenly there, pushing him back down with a firm hand. The angel's wings were spread, fluttering warningly as he crouched over the human.

"Alar, gassagen! Alar!"

_(Settle, people, settle!)_

A scary looking angel with dull brown wings approached first, still mounted on his, steed? Horse thing? Just what the hell was that thing, seriously? The creature snorted down at Dean, four eyes glaring at him, but its rider ignored him, attention on Castiel.

"Ol'mozod, Castiel," the scary angel shifted forward in his rope saddle to peer down at Dean with disgust. "Ol iolci toltorg ol nanaeel adohi."

_(Beloved, Castiel. You bring a creature of Earth to our tribe.)_

Dean had no idea what was going on. Judging by how scary angel was glaring at him though, he wasn't far away from being turned into an arrow pincushion. Dark skinned, the guy was built like a linebacker, thick and stocky with a bald head and angry scowl permanently etched onto his face. He was dressed like the other angels but with more elaborate wrist bands and a simple leather tong around his neck with some sort of bauble.

Castiel didn't move from his crouched position.

"Oiad oi…zorge. Nostah oi niis Michael baltan."

_(He is a…friend. For Michael to judge.)_

Castiel must have made a joke, because the angels circled around them broke into gruff chuckles, nudging one another with their wings. Scary angel's scowl deepened.

"Toltory oi nidali zorge ol helech!" he bellowed, cutting off the laughter around them.

_(The earth creatures are no friends of ours!)_

Castiel didn't flinch like the others, slowly straightening from his protective crouch over Dean. His wings stayed arched, and Dean thought back to the posturing birds on Earth.

"Oiad oi impamis amiran ol balzizras," Castiel growled, eyes flashing. "Plapli oiad ol Michael."

_(He is not yours to judge. Take us to Michael.)_

Scary angel looked ready to explode, veins bulging and teeth grinding. Dean struggled into a sitting position, finally catching his breath. With an irritated growl, scary angel yanked the leather straps in his hand, forcing his mount to turn. That was the signal apparently, as two angels swept forward to grab Dean under the armpits, dragging him after.

"Hey!" Dean swore, feet kicking uselessly as he was pulled along like a sack of potatoes. "I can walk you know!"

The angels ignored him. What a surprise.

 

* * *

 

The Ne'gassagen really liked their trees.

Dean figured it must be because they were part bird or something. He gazed up in awe at the tree that stretched up towards the skyline in front of him. He estimated it must be at least a mile or two in circumference, and several more tall. As the angels dragged him closer, it grew even larger, looming over him like a goliath creature of old, probably as tall as the buildings in the Citadel.

The ancient tree was hollow inside, the Ne'gassagen living inside it like tiny insects, and Dean was the center of attention as they hustled him inside. The core of the tree was still intact, swirling upwards into several stories of what looked like living space. Angels peered down at him from above, mostly women and children. All the angels currently bringing Dean in were male, and they shoved one another with triumphant smiles. The air was warm and smoky, cooking fires lit and meat roasting. Children ran in-between the adults, eyes wide and little wings shivering with delight at their first glimpse of a human.

One brave little girl darted forward, chubby hand outstretched. She ducked underneath the warriors wings and prodded Dean hard in the side, before retreating with a giggle. What was presumably her mother pushed through the crowd, scolding the youngster harshly as she grabbed one small wing.

The angels finally let Dean go, shoving him forward onto his knees. The impact made his joints groan, and Dean glowered at the angels darkly, struggling back to his feet. Castiel appeared at his side, back rigid and wings oddly still.

In front of the tree was an assortment of angels that stood out from the rest.

Dean immediately recognized Gabriel, and opened his mouth to call to him, but the angel shook his head, eyes worried. Beside Gabriel stood a tall blonde angel, wings a shimmering dark grey. His arms were crossed, and judging by the glare he was giving Dean, he didn't like humans much.

Castiel bowed low, arms out.

"Esiasch. Dorphal mirc ol lit nazarth."

_(Brother. I look upon you with gladness.)_

He shot a pointed look sideways at Dean, and Dean copied the angel, bowing low. It would probably be in his best interests to  _not_ piss anyone off just yet.

"Uh…ditto."

Blondie snorted, unfolding his arms to take a step forward. The guy was decked out in what must amount to angel bling, form fitting crème leather pants and intricately carved wooden bracelets.

"Castiel," his voice was cold, and Dean felt his hackles rise. "Fif-"

"Enough."

Sweet, blessed English. A female angel appeared from the stairs. She approached Blondie, touching his arm briefly as she glanced towards Castiel.

She was just as stern looking as the other angels, but also beautiful. Around her waist she wore a grass skirt of some kind, dyed various bright reds. She was gloriously topless, her bronze skin smooth and unblemished. Her dusky cinnamon wings were swept back behind her, some feathers adorned with colorful beads and leather thongs. Nestled in her long dark hair was a braided circlet like a crown, small bones and teeth woven into the leather.

Castiel stayed bowed low as she approached, his eyes downcast. The female looked at him for a moment, before turning her attention to Dean, who did everything in his power to keep his eyes carefully trained on her face.

The angels around them fell silent, a few wings fluttering as the female slowly circled him.

"It is not often we see your kind here, human," her voice was heavily accented, but her English perfect.

Dean smiled weakly, wincing as she poked his side. "I'm not here to cause trouble."

She pulled back to look at him, arms crossed. The many bracelets on her wrists jangled. "What are you called?"

"Uh, Dean," his tongue felt like sandpaper, suddenly wilting at the number of eyes on him. "Dean Winchester."

Voices suddenly clamored all around him, angels talking to one another excitedly. The female looked surprised, glancing back towards Blondie, whose eyes narrowed. Gabriel was grinning, taking delight in the chaos around him, but schooled his face back into an emotionless mask as a deep booming voice cracked across the crowd.

" _BIEN!"_

_(Harken to my voice!)_

The angels trailed back into silence, eyes wide as what was obviously their leader, appeared. He was tall like Blondie, but dark, his eyes a stormy grey as he glared out at the crowd. He wore a crown much like the female, nestled in wild dark hair a lot like Castiel's.

Huh. So that must be Michael.

He stormed towards Dean, huge white wings agitated.

"The toltorg are forbidden here," he hissed between clenched teeth. "I should  _kill you_  and be done with it."

Well. At least they were talking to him in English. He'd get to hear some familiar vowels before he died.

The female rested her hand on Michael's arm, her chocolate brown eyes still trained on Dean's face.

"Niisa, ol'mozod," she murmured. "Niisa."

( _Be calm, beloved. Be calm.)_

That seemed to calm him a little, and Michael stopped, wings flexing. Close up, Dean could see they weren't a perfect white, the feathers dappled with a light grey. The crackling of the cooking fires seemed suddenly loud in the silence as the angel seemed to grapple with his temper.

"Why do you come to us?" Michael finally asked, voice low and dangerous. Dean could see Gabriel from the corner of his eye, madly gesturing something Dean really couldn't make out.

The Colonel's words echoed in his head.  _We need a peaceful solution. If that fails…give me something to kill._ The ghostly heavy weight of a demon pressed in close against his back, a taunting reminder of what was waiting for him back at base. If he didn't deliver results, there was something far worse in store than a firm reprimand for him. This might be the exact opportunity to save his ass.  _Literally._

Dean squared his shoulders, hoping it wasn't interpreted as a threat display or something. "I came to learn."

The female arched a slim eyebrow as the angels around them began whispering again. "We have tried to teach other toltag. You are arrogant. Cowards. Preach to us of science, then shoot at us with guns."

Dean gave a tiny shrug. "Yeah we are pretty sucky. If it helps, I suck at science. And I'm kind of …gunless."

Wow, negotiating was definitely not his strong point. If only Sam were here, he'd know what to say, how to deal with these people. Dean was just bound to screw it up, say something to offend them.

Blondie stepped forward. "What are you then?" he demanded, wings fluffing. "If you are no scientist-"

"A marine," Dean said truthfully. The angels all looked back at him blankly, clearly not understanding the word, and Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "A…a warrior I guess."

There were excited murmurs behind him, Castiel's wings jerking once. The guy was still bowing, as if waiting permission to stand. Blondie didn't look too impressed with that answer, his lip curling in a sneer as his feathers bristled.

"A warrior? I could kill him easily!"

Michael held up a hand, and everyone fell silent, Blondie included. Though he didn't look too happy about it, wings jerking unhappily.

"You are the first warrior toltag we have seen," Michael said slowly, eyeing Dean up and down. "Who comes unarmed, asking to learn."

He looked over questioningly to the female at his side, and she gave him a small nod. Turning towards Castiel, she beckoned to him to rise. He did so slowly, wings tucked in close to his back.

"Castiel," she said loudly, probably for the benefit of the other angels around them. "He wishes to learn. To be taught our ways, to speak and walk as we do. I give you this honor."

The angels around them started whispering again, and the younger angel protested, wings jerking wildly. Dean felt almost offended for a minute.

"Ollog bagl-"

( _But I-)_

She raised her hand and Castiel trailed off, muttering darkly to himself.

"It is decided," she continued smoothly, turning to look at Dean. "Learn well, Dean Winchester. And we shall see if your  _caosga,_ your insanity, can be cured."

 

* * *

 

His new babysitter didn't seem particularly impressed with his new role. Castiel had shoved him down by a cooking fire, handing him a wooden bowl filled with what  _looked_ like a meat broth. It didn't taste too bad. Dean dug in hungrily, trying to ignore the fingers prodding him as angels gaggled around him. Feathers tickled his arms, and he stifled a sneeze as a little girl plopped herself into Dean's lap, small beige wings brushing against his nose. Castiel looked thunderous and for a moment Dean thought he had done something wrong, but no screaming mother tackled him out of nowhere. The girl reached towards his face, patting his cheek and chirruping curiously.

Dean smiled uncertainly. "Uh…hi sweetheart."

Castiel snorted to himself. "She has never seen a human." The angel stretched out his wing to try and shoo the youngster away, but she stayed firm, growling kittenishly. Her little hands found Dean's sore shoulder, and she crooned at it, stroking him.

"Hey," Dean jostled the little angel in his lap, turning himself more fully towards Castiel. "You didn't explain about my shoulder."

Those dark wings twitched. Castiel shrugged, reaching for his own meal. The firelight cast his pale face in a warm glow, giving him an orange aura that seemed fitting for a creature referred to as 'angel'.

"What of it?"

Dean winced as the girl stood on his thighs, little arms around his neck as she craned her face to look at his back.

"Dude, the jackal bit me good. But there are no marks, not even a  _scab._  What gives?"

Castiel paused, eyes briefly darting towards the pink skin peeking out from Dean's shirt.

"I healed you," he said flatly, ladling more stew into his bowl. "It was…necessary. You were losing much blood."

The girl, now satisfied with her exploration of Dean's front, gracefully rolled off his lap to begin a careful examination of his back, little hands searching. It took Dean a moment to realize she was looking for  _wings_. Castiel buffeted her a little harder this time, and she went with an irritated huff, leaving Dean unmolested for the time being.

"Well I uh…thanks. Again," the stew burnt the roof of his mouth but Dean continued to gulp it down, body warming to the broth. "Didn't know you guys could do that."

Those bright eyes softened a little, a feather just barely brushing his shoulder.

"There is much you do not understand of us. Of our people. But, you will learn. I w-"

A dark shape loomed over them, and Dean flinched at the audible growl that rumbled behind him.

"You give him knowledge, Castiel," a voice spat. "Nothing more."

Oh. Scary angel. Even scarier close up.

Dude was just a brick wall of unmovable flesh and bone, wings flexing behind him. Dean tried to smile winningly up at him, aware that one smack with one of those wings would probably decapitate him, or brain damage him at the very least.

"My, but aren't you angels just welcoming. Are you all this cheery?"

Scary angel looked ready to smack him, but was shoved aside by a familiar figure.

"Pretty much!" Gabriel chirped cheerfully, shouldering his way through the other angels to Dean's side. "Uriel here is an  _exemplary_ specimen."

Ah, so it had a name.

Uriel snarled down at Gabriel, eyes stormy. "You speak too much like them, Gabriel. You forget your  _iadnah_."

"And you forgot your sense of humor in the womb!" A slim blond appeared at Castiel's side, batting away some of Dean's admirers. "That stick up your ass is turning into a tree, Uriel. Watch out for splinters."

Uriel looked ready to kill, teeth bared and wings shaking. Castiel stretched one wing towards him, touching his arm lightly.

"Niisa, Uriel."

With a deep growl, Uriel stalked away around the fire. He chose a perfect glaring spot just across from the group, hunched and scowling like a giant, pissed off bird of prey.

Castiel turned to the blond at his side, glaring haughtily. "Balthazar, Uriel is the funniest of our tribe, you know this."

Gabriel had stolen Dean's discarded dinner, and choked on a mouthful, spluttering. Balthazar laughed loudly, drawing another scowl from the angel in question across the fire.

"Riiight," he winked. "You keep telling yourself that little brother and maybe someday it might actually happen."

The blonde had speckled downy brown wings, smaller and softer than Gabriel's, and as Dean watched, he ruffled them against Castiel's. The motion ruffled the feathers the wrong way, fluffing Castiel's wings to the point where he looked like a fat crow.

It took Dean a moment to realize he was watching the angel equivalent of a noogie. Sam would probably want this documented for science.

" _Balthazar,_ " Castiel spat, shoving his brother with his hands. "It is  _inappropriate_  to touch me thus."

_Thus?_ Even aliens had a better vocabulary than Dean. Great.

Balthazar looked shocked, wiping away fake tears.

"Oh woe, the day has come where one cannot even be playful with one's brother," he said dramatically, sniffing for effect.

Gabriel grinned, spooning more stew into Dean's bowl from the steaming vat over the fire. "Chill little bro, your virtue is still Uriel's for the plundering, I'm sure."

Dean had been cautiously sipping on a sweet drink that reminded him a little of fruit juice, and suddenly found himself spitting, startling the angels around him. Gabriel looked unrepentant, thumping him helpfully on the back with one hand as Castiel flushed a deep red.

"I know," Gabriel said sadly, still pounding Dean's back. "We're positively stuck in the stone age here."

Dean managed to recover himself, only coughing slightly. Castiel wasn't looking at him, face and chest tinged an embarrassed red. "You…he's your…um…"

"You really don't know anything do you?" Balthazar shook his head with mock sorrow. "For shame."

Gabriel winked at Dean. "We don't have gender roles like you do, Dean-o. Makes life more interesting."

Balthazar nodded wisely, stealing a piece of fruit from a nearby angel. "But as members of…what do they call us again bro?"

"Baltoh," Gabriel supplied helpfully, around a mouthful of stew. "Royal blood or whatever."

"Right," Balthazar bit into the fruit, juice coating his chin. "We usually have arranged matings. Gabe and I managed to escape that by being the worst bal, to ever toh."

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at Dean. "Too many lost virtues."

Castiel had curled his wings around himself as if that would somehow block his brothers out. Balthazar leaned towards him to elbow his side.

"But Cassie here is reserved. Only the best for little bro. But the poor thing won't wear his Hoath _maoffas_. Poor Uriel."

"Will you desist!" Castiel hissed fiercely, slapping his brother away. His wings were fluffed, distressed.

Gabriel pouted, looking at Dean forlornly. "Aw, we embarrassed him."

"Then our work here is done!" Balthazar cackled triumphantly. He rose with a flourish, snagging another piece of fruit. "Guess we'll be seeing you in the morning, Dean. Gotta get you back to that complex of yours."

Gabriel rose with him, Dean's bowl still in his hands. He winked at the human. "Luckily, I know my way around."

The two chuckled, disappearing back into the fray. Angels were beginning to wander off now, probably beginning to settle for the night. Castiel avoided Dean's eyes, staring at the fire, face still red. His wings were jittery, puffed and anxious.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, Dean drawing random patterns along his leg. Finally, he looked back over at the angel.

"Hey, Cas," the name just popped out of no-where, and Dean cringed. Angel's probably were offended if you shortened their names or something. But Castiel didn't try to kill him or anything. His wings jerked once, but then relaxed, feathers slowly smoothing back into place.

"Yes, Dean."

The human shifted a little closer, boots scuffing the dirt. "What's up with my name? You knew it before I even told you. And everyone reacted to it earlier."

The angel was quiet, drawing his legs up towards chest, chin resting on his knees. He stared into the fire as if far away, wings still.

"Your mother," he finally said quietly. "Mary. She…spoke of you and Sam often."

It felt like a punch to the gut.

Dean stared at him, heart suddenly pounding. "My...my mom?"

Castiel nodded once. "She taught us English. She was…a friend."

Abruptly the angel's demeanor changed, and with a flap of his wings, he was standing.

"You should rest," he said curtly. "Tomorrow I will help you return to your people."

Dean had no choice but to follow him, despite the questions that clamored in his head. Pushing right now might not get him anywhere, but there was no way he was going to let  _that_  drop. His mom had actually spent time here?

Castiel led him further up into the tree, where woven hammocks were strung together in large groups on the tree tops, lashed to the branches with strips of leather. Other communal sleeping areas were structured into the leafy branches itself, and angels settled down to sleep in them, curled around each other. Really, if you looked at them closely, they were nests.

Freaking  _nests._

Sam was going to have a field day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

 

The canteen was loud, full of clanging utensils, and the constant chattering of people. Dean thought it was the sweetest sounding thing he'd ever heard.

Bobby grinned off to his right, hands expressive as he recounted the story again for the gaping soldiers. "Then the last thing we see is this marine's ass disappearin' into the brush with this angry Vniglag comin' after him."

Dean grinned winningly around his noodles as the men chuckled. "It's not something you can teach."

Ash, the scruffy looking marine Dean had seen in the hangar the other day, pointed at him seriously.

"Dude. You're awesome."

Sam was pressed close to his side, apparently unwilling to let Dean out of his sight for even a minute. The giant girl tucked into his own meal, shooting an affectionate glare towards Dean. "For reasons I can't even begin to fathom,  _you_ were the one that the Ne'gassagen let in. Seriously."

"What can I say Sammy?" Dean winked. "Must be my natural charm."

Gabriel had woken him up early that morning, leading the way through the thick forest back towards the complex. Dean hadn't seen any sign of Castiel, but Gabriel assured him before leaving him at the complex fence, that his feathered savior would be back the next day.

It had been downright embarrassing, hollering up at the guards to let Dean in and then having to suffer through watching Sam run across the concrete towards him with arms flung open like a scene from a bad romance movie.

Bobby chuckled, reaching over to pat him briefly on the hand. "I can't believe it. You're somethin' else boy."

A familiar figure wound her way through the throngs of dining humans, picking her way towards them. Ruby had changed from her jumpsuit into jeans and a t-shirt, and the female demon attracted many an appraising look as she passed by.

Reaching their table, her eyes lighted on Dean, and she shook her head with a wry smile.

"So it's true. We haven't got rid of you yet."

Dean shoveled more noodles into his mouth, ignoring Sam's grimaces at him. "Nope. You'll have to try harder next time."

Ruby rolled her eyes, leaning forward to snag a French fry from Ash's plate. "Yeah, yeah. You're wanted up in command central, hot stuff. Crowley asked for you by name. Colonel's up there too."

Dean nearly choked, the noodles suddenly too long and stringy in his mouth. Sam touched him worriedly, and Dean shrugged him off, swallowing.

"Right. Better not keep boss man waiting huh?" his tone was light, but his stomach felt knotted as he stood, his seat scraping across the floor.

Sam watched his brother go, desperately wanting to follow. But Dean was a marine, and a damn good one at that. It wasn't Sam's place to try and baby him.

Dean passed by a table of demons, and they leered at him, black eyes flashing. One stood out, and Sam dug an elbow into Bobby's side without thinking.

"Hey. Who's the creep giving Dean the stink-eye?"

Luckily the older scientist didn't seem to mind the nudge, glancing over towards where Sam indicated. His eyes hardened, jaw clenching.

"Alistair," he growled, and Ruby paused mid French-fry theft. "That son of a bitch."

Jo glanced up from her salad, giving a full body shudder. "That guy gives me the heebie jeebies. Always lurkin' around like a…well…lurkin' thing."

Bobby humphed, turning back to his own meal. "That black eyed creep knows better than to hang around you, baby girl. I'd kill 'im."

"Aw, thanks Papa Bear," Jo leaned into her step-father's side, batting her eyes. "But I can kick his ass just fine on my own."

Sam frowned, letting their voices wash over him as he studied the sniggering demon across the hall. Ruby nudged him, dark eyes serious as Sam turned back around.

"Watch it, kid. Alistair is a guy you  _don't_ want to attract the attention of," she said lowly. "Trust me on that."

 

* * *

 

A bored looking secretary waved him into the huge office, and Dean swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. The carpet under his boots swished as he entered, and Dean steeled himself as he noticed the large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Sat behind it was the Corporate Administrator, and beside him…stood the Colonel.

Both demons. Yay.

The Corporate Administrator was a red eye, and he stood slowly, spreading his hands as he smiled. "Winchester! Glad to see you made it back in one piece. You're turning into quite the celebrity around here."

A hand was thrust in his direction, and mindful of the Colonel's judging gaze, Dean took it, shaking once.

"Thank you, Sir. I'm just glad to be home."

The demon's red eyes crinkled at him, glittering with genuine glee. "Please, the name's Crowley," he settled back down into his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. "I hear you ran into our little friends out there in the bush."

Dean nodded once, and the Colonel sighed, cocking his hip against the desk. His arms were crossed, shoulders a tense line of irritation.

"Out with it, Winchester. What did you find? I won't ask twice."

Dean squared his shoulders, feet spread. "They want to learn from me, Sir. They're going to teach me their ways."

Crowley clapped his hands, and the Colonel glared over at him irritably.

"Well wonderful! Now that's called taking the initiative," the red eyed demon winked. "I like that.  _So-_ "

The demon picked up a pen, tapping it against the desk thoughtfully. The Colonel was watching Dean again, eyes calculating, and Dean stiffened further. The threats from the black eye in the hangar were still fresh in his mind.

"-now we just need to find out what they want," Crowley frowned, the mirth leaving his eyes. "We tried giving them medicine, education, roads, you name it. But no, they like their mud and trees. Go figure. We need to get them to move, and we need to get it done  _soon._ "

Dean met those red eyes with his own, mindful of the Colonel's gaze currently boring holes in him. "And if I may ask Sir, why do we need to do that?"

Crowley smiled at him, dropping the pen with a clatter to fold his hands in front of him. "That little home tree of theirs just happens to be sitting on the richest deposit of alchideo within two hundred clicks in any direction."

Dean's heart sank. It didn't take a genius to work out what the demon was getting at.

"And if they don't go?" He asked carefully. Crowley sighed loudly, glancing over at the Colonel briefly.

"Look, my… _investors,_ are not patient beings. They want results, and they want them now. Slaughtering a bunch of pigeons on an alien planet might not make the news, but give those pigeons a human  _face_ and well..."

The demon shrugged. "We need good PR for this project and a peaceful solution would give us that."

The Colonel unfolded his arms, long fingers snagging the pen Crowley had dropped. His eyes were bright, almost fluorescent in the office lights.

"You have a talent, Winchester. You get things done. I can respect that." From the corner of his eye, Dean could see the Colonel viciously twist the pen, the plastic cracking under the pressure. "But you're just a tool. Remember that."

Dean kept his face carefully neutral, eyes trained on Crowley. The demon was frowning over at the Colonel, and Dean could hear the plastic of the pen creak as it was snapped. Dean's hands trembled minutely where he clasped them behind his back, palms slick with sweat.

_Get it together, Winchester. This isn't Hel._

The Colonel took a step forward aggressively, dropping the destroyed pen to the floor. Dean flinched, silently cursing himself for such an obvious display of weakness, forcing himself to stand ram-rod straight as the demon advanced.

"So you'll do their little pow wows and dance around that stupid tree in a loincloth," the Colonel whispered, leaning into Dean's space. "You'll do whatever you have to, and make them move. Because if you don't…"

The demon leant even further towards him, nose almost brushing his cheek, and Dean felt like turning tail and running. "Let's just say feathers will fly. And  _boy,_  will they."

Those yellow eyes bore into his. Dean felt a droplet of sweat trail down the side of his face.

" _Azazel_!"Crowley's voice sliced through the tension, sharp and disapproving, and the Colonel pulled away with a smirk.

"But we don't want that of course," the yellow eyed demon smiled, turning back towards Crowley. "We want a peaceful solution."

Crowley eyed the Colonel disapprovingly as his fellow demon moved away to resume his stance by the window. "Peaceful is good. Look Dean, you have three months. That's how long I can afford to give you. I'm counting on you. And so are they."

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. He was shaking and just wanted to get out of there. "Yes, Sir. I'll try my best."

"Good," the red eye nodded towards Dean. "I expect you to keep us updated on your progress. Good luck kid."

Dean almost tripped in his hurry to leave.

 

* * *

 

Crowley watched the Winchester leave, noting the human's half sprint towards freedom. Crowley was a businessman, and prided himself on being one of the more successful demons when it came to reading humans. He knew what made humans tick, what they liked, and what they didn't. And that one…

That one definitely had issues.

The leather beneath him creaked as he leant back in his chair, hands folded serenely against his stomach. "He seemed a bit tense."

Azazel was glaring out the window, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides. Honestly, the amount of time the yellow bastard spent brooding and skulking around looking intimidating was just ridiculous. What Crowley wouldn't give for a few more reds around the place, instead of being forced to endure his fellow cousins. Sadistic blacks and one creepy yellow was damaging to his intellect.

And his office stationary apparently.

"So? He should be," Azazel's voice was low, rumbling with anger as he turned away from the window, and Crowley silently sighed to himself. "Do you have any idea what the name Winchester  _means?_ "

Oh wonderful. He was about to be treated to some boring-arse war story that Azazel was always so fond of. Like he hadn't heard them a million times.

"A type of rifle?" Crowley asked wryly, bending down to retrieve his ruined pen and ignoring the dark glower thrown his way. Azazel never hid the fact that he hated Crowley, and the feeling was mutual. Back on Hel, demons like Azazel were big news. They were the ones with the power, the wealth and fame. But out here? Out here he was just a little fish in a big ocean.

And these were  _Crowley_ infested waters.

"It means  _pain_ and  _suffering,_ " Azazel hissed, apparently perfectly happy with continuing his war story. "Those bastards murdered hundreds, probably  _thousands_ of demons and their Earth Council pins a fucking medal on their chests?"

Crowley sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had so many other things he could be doing. Like watching paint dry. Or annoying Singer down in the biolabs. Dammit, gouging his eyes out with  _sporks_ sounded like a whale of time compared to this. "Both sides killed the other. It was  _war_ and now it's over, hallelujah."

" _No."_

Crowley glanced up at that, taken aback by the hatred laced in Azazel's voice. Who knew the scary bastard actually had  _emotions?_ Well to be fair, the demon's default state was anger, so maybe this wasn't all that exciting.

"It will never be over. Just that… _Winchester,"_ there was a vein pulsing in Azazel's forehead, and Crowley watched it interestedly, silently wondering just how angry the demon would have to get for it to burst. "Do you know how long I've waited to just see his  _face?_  To see the one responsible for-"

Azazel cut himself off, jaw clenching as he resumed his angry glaring out the window. Crowley rolled his eyes, picking at his nails boredly. Everyone with ears knew the Colonel had apparently lost family during the war. But really, who hadn't? Crowley had lost eight brothers and four sisters. Did he whine on about it to anyone that would listen?  _No_. Probably because the war had saved him the trouble of killing them himself.

Details, details.

"And what do I see?" Azazel continued, eyes practically melting holes into the glass in front of him. "A washed up marine with so many issues I'm amazed he can even get up in the morning."

Crowley shrugged, picking a bit of lint off his suit jacket and flicking it away. "So the guy has problems. He's not the only one on this base."

Azazel ignored him, leaning his forehead on the glass. "They tell the saga of Serpent's Pass to our young. Hatchlings are afraid of John Winchester hiding under their beds or in their closets. That murdering piece of  _shit_ has our respect and admiration, even though he wiped out our kin and cost us the war."

He turned towards Crowley, sulfuric eyes blazing as he pointed accusingly towards the door. "And  _that's_ supposed to be his son? That weak,  _pathetic_ excuse for a human being?"

Oh now that kind of talk wouldn't do. Crowley placed both hands flat on his desk, watching the Colonel shrewdly. "If this was some kind of attempt to make me feel sorry for you, you can think again."

Azazel turned at that, startled.

"The war is  _over_ ," Crowley continued firmly, noting the minute jerk the Colonel gave. "And I say good riddance. It was a piss poor excuse for a war anyways. Now, believe it or not, but there are both humans  _and_  demons on this base, and so far, it's been working. So John Winchester fucked you over, I get it."

He pushed away from his chair, staring Azazel down. The yellow eye was a good head and shoulders taller than him, but Crowley didn't back down, folding his arms and glaring hard.

"But at least that lucky bastard got to die at the end of the war. His son, a  _marine,_  who was there at Serpent's Pass, had to live with it. You don't like the man, fine. It's your business and I really don't care. But I swear by  _Sithis_ , Azazel-"

The Colonel was using his death glare on him, but Crowley wasn't easily intimidated, thrusting his chin forward for good measure.

"You will  _respect_ him. The man is a damn war hero, and also happens to be the ace up our sleeve for this project. If you fuck this up for me, you,  _or_  your little lackeys…"

Crowley threw in a cocky smirk, enjoying how the Colonel shook with barely concealed anger.

"I will make your life very difficult. Maybe even show you why they kept us reds off the battlefield."

Azazel sneered at him, but those yellow eyes darted away, towards Crowley's shoulder. Seemed the message had been received. "Is that a threat?"

"You bet it is," Crowley dropped back down into his chair. "So knock off your alpha male  _bullshit_ , and do your job."

Azazel muttered something under his breath, turning and storming for the door.

"And you owe me a new pen!" Crowley shouted after him, grinning as the Colonel bit out a dark curse just as the doors closed.

 

* * *

 

The biolabs were a hive of activity, busy looking people in white coats hurrying to and fro. Dean sat at a lab bench, shifting uncomfortably on the hard chair as his brother pottered around him. Sam was a pacing lunatic, arms flailing as he gushed about how awesome science was or something, white lab coat flapping.

"Isn't it amazing?" Sam grinned, shaking his head. "Our planets are so far apart, yet we evolved in a similar direction. I mean of course we don't exactly have wings but we look a lot alike and what are the chances? Like a billion t-"

Dean rolled his eyes, knuckles rapping on the hard bench surface. "Yeah yeah, I bet Darwin would be creaming his pants right now. Earth to Samantha, focus please?"

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Oh, right."

Bobby pushed through the sea of white, shooing people away with a flap of his hands. "Alright, let's go through them again."

Dean groaned, slumping. "Again? Come on, Bobby."

"No buts," the older scientist said firmly. "This is our only chance at this, boy, and I aint lettin' it slip by. You're this project's last hope."

Jo swept into their midst, blonde hair bouncing and eyes twinkling. She had several holopad's in her hand and held them in front of her dramatically. "Help us Obiwan-Kanobi, you're our only hope."

Dean smiled, halfheartedly reaching out to swat at her. "I guess I did always want to be a Jedi."

Jo ducked away from his hand, handing a holopad to her step-father. Bobby tapped the screen a few times. As he turned it towards Dean, Michael's stern face glared back at him.

"Michael," Dean dutifully recited. "Head honcho." The picture shimmered, and an attractive female angel stared back at him. "Raphael. Dragon lady. Michael's ol' ball and chain."

Bobby rolled his eyes, and the picture changed again. Blondie scowled out at him and Dean shook his head.

"Lucifer. But seriously… _Lucifer?_ " he asked incredulously, shooting Sam a look.

His brother shrugged. "Blame the bible bashers who discovered the planet. Christianity seeped into the culture of the Ne'gassagen accidentally and just kinda…stuck."

Dean sighed. "Ok. So, Lucifer. Michael's brother and right hand man. Kind of a dick."

Bobby nodded at him, and the picture shifted to a familiar smiling face. Dean chuckled.

"Gabriel. Third in line for the throne or whatever. And," the picture shifted again. "Balthazar. Fourth in line."

Bobby shook his head with a smile, tossing the holopad onto the bench. "Those two could be powerful leaders if they put their minds to it. Instead, Gabriel is more interested in causin' havoc, and Balthazar is along for the ride. Idiots the pair of 'em."

Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully, absently flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Why is that? The other gassagen are very traditional. Why do they-"

Dean leant back in the hard plastic chair, fingers tapping against his thigh as he let their voices lull into a pleasant hum around him. His nerves were still thrumming, anxious and tense from his meeting earlier. When would he be able to let that go? The Colonel was his boss. He couldn't spend the rest of his life being afraid of a  _demon._

His shoulder gave a phantom twinge, snapping Dean back to the present, and his fingers stilled.

"Hey," he said suddenly, and the scientists turned their attention back towards him. "What about Castiel?"

Bobby frowned. "Castiel? Well he's a baltoh, but he's the youngest. Will probably never gain power, so in the scheme of things, ain't that important. Not much you need to know about him."

For some reason Dean felt offended at that. He grabbed the discarded holopad with more force than was strictly necessary. "He's the one in charge of taking care of me. I think that qualifies as  _important_."

The slim holopad felt fragile in his hands, and Dean squinted at the screen as he tapped a few buttons. Castiel's face filled the screen, tiny spindly writing filling the bottom half of the picture. The angel looked uneasy, glancing away from the photo and jaw tense. Dean leant forward to study the writing underneath.

"Says he's an iadnamad," he said slowly, glancing over towards Bobby. "What the hell is one of those?"

Sam took a step forward before the older scientist could answer, craning his face to see the picture. "An iadnamad? I've never heard of a male angel being one."

Bobby surprised them both by snatching the holopad back, the screen flickering back to black. "Probably because there aren't any!" Bobby glanced around them, lowering his voice slightly. "It's not common knowledge, and I'd like to keep it that way. The angel has enough trouble from his own tribe without us tryin' to experiment on him."

Well that sounded bad. Dean glanced up at his brother.

"Well we're not gonna tell anyone. But I'll be spending a butt-load of time with the dude, so it's probably something I need to know. What's an iadnamad?"

Bobby stared at him for a beat, before sighing heavily, rubbing the back of his neck with a callused hand. "Roughly translated? It means divine knowledge. An angel that's an iadnamad is more in tune with the natural world and closer to  _Geiad._ Their God. Some think they have certain… _powers_  other angels don't."

"Like Superman?" Dean grinned.

Sam gave him a light punch on the arm. "An iadnamad usually becomes a tribe's spiritual leader, but they're always female. Raphael is the iadnamad."

Dean rubbed his arm with a scowl, ignoring Jo's giggle. "Well how come Cas is one then?"

"They don't have the same gender roles as us, Dean. They're pretty equal in reproductive roles." Sam shrugged. "Castiel must just be…special. Random mutation."

" _Equal in reproductive roles_? Care to speak English, Sam?"

Jo had been nonchalantly examining a holopad, but looked up as Dean spoke. She grinned impishly, winking at Dean. "It means dudes can get pregnant."

There was a brief silence as Dean processed that.

"Oh," he finally managed. "Right."

Bobby set the holopad down, shaking his head. "Why do you think we wanna study 'em so bad? Mary's research is incomplete.  _You_  have a rare opportunity here to help finish it,  _and_ maybe save a lot of lives in the process. If we can learn about 'em, we might be able to figure out how to  _stop_ this damn company from bulldozin' their home."

Dean mulled that over. Equipment beeped and buzzed around him, papers rustling as scientists continued about their work.  _Him_? Why couldn't Sam have been chased by an angry cat monster instead? People relying on him never went well.

The War had shown him that.

Dean's shoulder gave a twinge again, and he winced for a moment, hand automatically reaching to touch it. He paused, suddenly remembering what they had been talking about.

"Hey you said powers right?" he asked. "Can they heal?"

Bobby paused in the middle of discussing something with Sam. "What?"

"Check it out," Dean rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the slightly raised pink skin of his shoulder. "Remember I told you about those jackal things? I forgot, but I got bitten-"

He touched the skin with a grin, only feeling a slight twinge of sensitivity. "But Cas did some freaky angel shit and look. No scab or anything."

The lab suddenly seemed very quiet. Every technician within hearing distance had paused what they were doing, staring towards Dean collectively. Bobby looked winded, Sam wide eyed and gawking.

"Oh my god, Dean," his brother finally gasped, breaking the silence. "That's…that's…"

Dean craned to see his shoulder, suddenly panicked. Oh man, was he somehow deformed? He was going to  _kill_ Cas if he was mangled for life-

Jo shoved a small pocket mirror at him, her fingers shaking, and Dean finally saw what exactly they were all gawking at. There, where he had been mauled, was pink healing skin. Slightly raised, it formed a very distinct shape.

A perfect handprint.

"Blood tests!" Bobby snapped towards the technicians, startling the lab into a flurry of activity. "I want a full body scan!  _Now_  people!"

Dean swiveled his head to watch the technicians around him worriedly. "What?  _What?_ " he turned towards Sam pleadingly, shrugging a technician off his arm as she grabbed him. "Sammy!Am I gonna die?"

Sam absently shooed a technician away to reach out and prod Dean's skin just beneath the handprint. His voice was hushed and awed. "Never thought I'd see evidence of it."

Bobby muscled his way through, barking orders left and right. Jo was off, echoing his orders, but the lab seemed to just be in a panic, people flailing everywhere.

Sam shook his head, eyes wide. "Dean you idiot, you were attacked by a Canixalong. Their teeth are coated with a deadly toxin that prevents your blood from clotting. Their prey bleeds out in minutes."

"You should be dead," Bobby cut in roughly. "That angel, he saved your life. Most angels have healin' powers, but only minor, like healin' a cut here and there. Only an iadnamad can pull you back from the brink of death."

Sam swallowed, eyes frightened. "Dammit Dean, if he hadn't been there…"

The look in his brother's eyes scared him, and Dean tried to reach out to reassure Sam he was okay, but he was pushed out of his seat, hurriedly ushered towards a different area of lab. Sam's face was temporarily lost in a sea of white.

"Healing? So they do have superpowers!" Dean said lightly, panic beginning to set in.

As if sensing his oncoming panic attack, Bobby reappeared, sending technicians scattering. He pushed Dean down into a chair, eyes understanding even as his gruff voice continued to hand out orders. There was a gentle hand on his elbow, and Dean twisted to see Jo smiling down at him.

"It's hard to explain," she said gently, ignoring the activity around them. "Their world relies on the flow of life. We believe it's an actual physical life force called their 'Malprigzch' that they can control. Like, a flow of energy they control within themselves and the world around them."

Bobby grunted, holding a syringe up to the light and flicking it. Dean tried to ignore how huge the needle looked.

"No human has ever been the recipient of it," a muscle in Bobby's jaw twitched. "It's a power reserved for  _them_. Accordin' to their laws, he should've let you die."

Dean felt light headed, stomach heaving. "Kiss Cas's ass profusely," Dean joked weakly. "Got it."

 

* * *

 

After multiple blood tests, and scans, and God knew what else, Dean was finally allowed to return to his room. He collapsed with a groan onto his bed, rubbing his cheek happily against the soft cotton sheets.

"Oh sweetheart, I will never leave you again," he rumbled against the bedspread.

Sam hovered worriedly nearby, running a hand through his hair. It was his nervous tick, playing with his ridiculous mane. Usually meant a discussion about  _feelings_ wasn't far off, and Dean sighed.

"Out with it Sam," he mumbled. "Tell me what a stupid idiot I am. Like I haven't heard that enough today."

The bed next to his squeaked loudly as Sam dropped heavily on it. Opening one eye, Dean looked over at his brother's slumped form. Sam's forearms rested along his thighs, head bent forward to study the floor.

"Dean, do you know why I decided to study xenobiology?" he asked quietly.

Dean raised his head, shuffling his elbows under him so he could look at his brother full on. Sam avoided his eyes, fingers picking at imaginary threads on his knees.

"I did it so she would see my name everywhere. I'd be the best xenobiologist just so she would have to read my name in every journal she picked up, see my face in every holo."

He raised his head at that, looking so much like the little brother Dean had watched walk away from all those years ago.

"I wanted to make it so she could  _never_ escape me as easily as she left us. Left us to rot there in that colony."

Dean got his legs under him, sitting up. "Sam," he warned, voice low and rough. His brother continued, forcing the words out that he had obviously kept inside for a long time.

"I don't even remember her," Sam chuckled wryly. "To me, I never had a mother. But I had  _you._ I had Dad. And that was enough. But now…"

Sam swallowed heavily, looking anywhere but at Dean.

"Now, there's just you. And I'm not going to lose you too. I can't. When you didn't come back-"

Dean was crouching in front of his brother before he even knew he was moving. Sam's cheek was wet as he grabbed it, fingers scraping against stubble. This wasn't the little boy with a gaping smile that Dean would play cowboys and Indians with through the fields, or catch bullfrogs with in the Miller Pond by the abandoned farm. It wasn't the sick infant he had held through the night when John had to work late in the mines.

Sam was a grown man now, but in so many ways, he would always be that younger brother. Would always be that little boy with scraped knees that Dean would kiss better.

"Sam, listen to me."

It was his big brother voice, and Sam obeyed, glancing up through his thick mess of hair. Dean gave him a little shake, trying to ignore the tightness in his own chest.

"You won't lose me," he said firmly. "We came here together, we'll do this together."

Sam took a deep breath, smiling faintly even as his eyes glistened. "You know, sometimes you sound so much like Dad it hurts."

His chest tightened further. "Yeah. I know."

"I think he'd be proud," Sam reached out, fingers slipping under the metallic chain around Dean's neck. Dean let his brother pull the ID tags free from his shirt, already knowing the shape of the letters under Sam's thumb as he touched the last tag reverently. The punched metallic letters under his fingers was the last tenuous link to a father he had barely known; John Winchester's epitaph etched in less than two dozen letters and numbers.

Dean reached up to enclose his brother's hand in his, squeezing lightly. "He was always proud of you, Sammy. Always. He just-"

Sam hung his head with a wry chuckle, fingers falling away from Dean's. "I was too much like her. Every time he looked at me, he saw her."

He stared at the floor again, shoulders slumped. "What happened to our family, Dean? Where did we go wrong? Was it, was it me? Did Dad hate her that much?"

Dean's chest felt too tight, the air in his lungs too thin.  _No Sammy, it was never you, never you._

"We didn't go wrong," Dean's voice sounded alien to his ears, self-assured even though he didn't feel it. "Our family just got dealt a bad hand. It's no-one's fault."

_But mine._

Sam smiled at him, and Dean ached with it. Ached with the knowledge of that long distant little boy who never deserved any of what they actually got.

Dean would always try to shoulder that burden. Sam deserved better.

"Yeah," Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder affectionately. "I guess we're doing pretty good just the two of us, huh?"

Dean smiled back, the words heavy in his mouth. "Yeah. I guess we are."


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

 

Village life started early; Dean was a groggy, yawning mess when Gabriel arrived to retrieve him. Later, Dean was treated to his first experience of Angel Airways, and decided that yeah, he still hated flying.

Gabriel now sat nearby, forlornly examining the featherless patches in his wings where Dean  _may_ have been a little too overenthusiastic with his panicked grabbing. Insects buzzed in the vegetation, the day's heat shimmering above them. Bird-like creatures called to one another in the canopy above, but the angels took no notice of them.

The home tree was alive with activity, cooking fires doused and nests being cleaned. Flocks of children giggled and played nearby, their mothers keeping an eye on them as they murmured to each other in quiet voices. Around the back of the massive tree, was a smaller cleared area lined by green bushes and flowers. It was here the angels kept their mounts, or _Levithmong_  as Castiel kept reminding him, and it was here Dean was expected to start his training. The creatures were too weird looking to be compared to horses, groups of them grazing along the edges of their pasture. Instead of lips, they had hard chitinous beaks, long tongues sliding between them to dip into various flowers to reach the sweet nectar inside.

Now that Dean had a good look at them, they were different to the cat animal that had nearly made him lunch, smaller and no sharpened fangs. It was still just a mass of corded muscle, with six strong legs that ended in four toed talons. For climbing, Cas had told him curtly, though Dean thought they looked more suited to disemboweling hapless humans.

Their thick long necks ended in a large triangular head, with two sets of almond shaped eyes set along each cheekbone. Instead of a mane like a horse, hard dark blue plates interlocked down their necks, creating a reptilian scale effect along their necks and backs. The animals nickered to one another, muscular tails slapping against their hides as they moved through the grass.

Dean had never been much of a rider, so when Castiel started pushing him towards them, he had told the angel as much, protesting loudly. Castiel ignored him, flapping his wings hard and shoving Dean forward. Up close, the Levithmong were broad but smaller than he had thought, their thick heads only reaching Dean's chest. Still, Dean had never had anything _that_ big between his legs that didn't at least have breasts attached.

Ha. Panic humor. Hilarious.

Castiel singled one out of the herd, looping a woven rope harness around its head slowly. The Levithmong fretted at first, but calmed as Castiel clicked his tongue at it, following the angel willingly away from the herd.

It's four dark brown eyes eyed Dean warily as he approached it, head cocked to watch him more fully. Its dark grey skin was warm under his hand, leathery to the touch, and Dean smiled nervously as it pawed at the earth with one foot.

"Woah, easy girl."

Gabriel stopped fussing over his wings, glancing up and brushing a stray insect away. "Hershey is a boy."

Dean paused, one leg already hitched over the creature's back. Castiel was still murmuring to the creature, stroking its thick neck as it shifted beneath Dean's weight. "Like the chocolate?"

Gabriel winked. "You got it. Bobby had a stash in his desk one time. Didn't last long, and I liked the name."

Rather ungracefully, Dean made it onto the broad back, shifting his hips more comfortably against the hard armor. The Levithmong made a honking noise, shifting all six legs impatiently, and Castiel shushed it gently, running his fingers along the back of its skull. It quieted, a purring sound rumbling in its barrel-like chest.

"We communicate with them by passing our _malprigzch_  through their minds," Castiel explained, voice soft as the Levithmong crooned to him. "It is a…state of being."

"Well I guess I don't have much of that," Dean said dryly, and the Levithmong flicked it's bat-like ears back. "I'll be lucky to not fall o-"

Dean yelped as the creature reared a little, clutching at the rope reins desperately. Castiel's fingers framed the beast's face, and it calmed again, snorting as its six legs shifted.

"You will ride your own Levithmong after you become a full Ne'gassagen," Castiel nodded to him. "It is important you learn now. Tell him to move."

Gabriel looked on as Dean tried to gently coax the beast forward, barely concealing a huge grin. A smaller group of younger angels stood on the outskirts of the paddocks, wide eyed and whispering.

"Right," Dean said weakly, swallowing hard. "Alright, Hershey. Go easy on me."

He nodded towards Castiel, and the angel let go of the reins. For a moment, it seemed like all was well, the Levithmong merely looking around blankly, ears swiveling and nostrils flaring. Dean grinned triumphantly.

"All right! I think I got this dow-"

Like a greyhound out of the gate, the Levithmong jerked forward with a trumpet of joy. Dean clung on for dear life as it thundered away with him onboard, desperately hoping that maybe this time his death would be quick. The six legs powered it along like a freight train, reaching a speed that had Dean's fingers slipping on the reins in only seconds. If he fell, it would be the equivalent to a shuttle crash, nothing left of him but a big squishy mess.

Just as Dean was beginning to ponder what Sam might say at his funeral, the Levithmong's head snapped around, forcefully tugged by the rope rein. It yielded to the tug, slowing down and prancing in a circle unhappily. Its tail lashed back and forth, slapping Dean hard on the thigh, and he yelped, letting one hand go of the rein to try and smack the tail away. Sensing freedom was only a buck away, the Levithmong ducked its head low, back arching as it kicked its back legs out  _hard._  Dean barely had a moment to pinwheel his arms desperately in the air before gravity once again decided to screw him over. His back slammed to the ground, a wet splat accompanying the dull ache.

For a moment, he just stared up at the blue sky, blinking and winded as nearby, Castiel wrestled the beast back under control. After getting his breath back, Dean sat up with a wince, spitting mud out of his mouth and flicking his hands. Castiel was looking over at him with wide eyes as Gabriel's raucous laughter filled the clearing.

"Are you well?" Castiel asked, the Levithmong fretting at his side as he approached Dean. "Do you need-"

"No! I'm  _fine,_ " Dean slapped the angel's offered hand away, pride stinging, but only succeeded in spraying mud everywhere and forcing Gabriel's laughs up a higher pitch.

The other Levithmongs, curious about the strange creature currently wallowing in  _their_  mud, began a slow wander over, gazing down at Dean curiously as they bleated to each other. Even Castiel looked like he was suppressing a smile, ducking his head as Dean glared over at him.

"Not. A. Word," he growled, struggling to his knees. Castiel nodded, but his eyes were definitely far too bright.

As if Dean's embarrassment wasn't enough, the commotion drew a familiar lumbering shape towards them. Uriel landed in a flap of sullen wings, stare practically baking the mud that now seemed to encase the human head to toe.

" _Nidali-vpaah_  do not belong here. You should leave," Uriel growled.

With a flick of his arms, Dean sent mud spattering everywhere, some hitting Uriel's feet. The angel flapped backwards with a grimace, and Dean winced. Gabriel was still choking back laughter, Castiel smiling into his hand.

Screw it. The guy already hated him, might as well make this entertaining.

"Nah, you'd miss me," Dean smiled up at him, and Uriel's scowl deepened. "You'd have no-one else to aim that  _gorgeous_  smile at."

Muttering, Uriel turned to Castiel, whose face immediately schooled into a neutral mask. Uriel's wings were agitated, bristling and gesturing.

"A rock would see more, Castiel. Look at him! You cannot teach the toltag!"

Dean was still spitting mud out, trying to unsuccessfully pick it off his tongue when Castiel looked over, smiling.

"Perhaps. We will see."

Hershey leaned into the angel, forcing a breathless laugh from Castiel as he tried to push the beast away. The Levithmong merely chirped at him, nuzzling its head into the angel's wings. With a dark mutter and glower, Uriel stormed away, Levithmong clicking at him with their beaks as he strode by.

Dean struggled to his feet, shooing away a Levithmong that had been happily mouthing at his hair, beak scratching his scalp gently. It moved away with an unhappy sigh, leaving behind a string of drool.

"What was that you said?" Dean ran a hand over his head, grimacing at the mixture of mud and Levithmong drool. "I get one of these beasts to call my own? Can I get some training wheels or something?"

Castiel reached out to flick a glob of mud off Dean's arm. "You do not choose a Levithmong, Dean. It chooses you. You see, we are all connected by this thread of life, our malprigzch. We share this with our Levithmong to strengthen the bond. It cannot easily be broken. "

Dean rolled his eyes, pinching the front of his t-shirt to pull it away from his skin and give it a shake. "Jesus Cas, you about to break into a Colors of the Wind solo?"

The angel frowned at that, cocking his head curiously. He looked like a confused bird, and Dean couldn't help but smile at him.

"I'm afraid I do not understand that reference," Castiel said. "Is that an Earth saying?"

Gabriel glided over on silent wings, landing beside them. The bastard was still chuckling as he took the reins from Castiel's hand, cocking an eyebrow at Dean.

"I guess that would make you John Smith," the angel winked at him. "But keep the kissing to a minimal, okay? Kokoum over there wouldn't be too happy."

Dean flicked mud at him. "Hilarious."

Uriel was still watching from the edge of the field, and Dean gave him a cheery wave. Gabriel turned, grabbing Hershey's face between his hands.

"You were so good! Yes you were! Made Papa laugh!"

With over exaggerated sounds, Gabriel planted sloppy kisses along the top of the Levithmong's head between its ears. The beast squealed happily, tail wagging back and forth as it returned the affection, long tongue covering Gabriel in equally disgusting kisses.

Dean turned away, making mock heaving noises. The other Levithmong's milled around them, grazing, and a few sniffed Dean curiously. None seemed to greet Castiel though, and Dean glanced over at him curiously.

"So where's yours?" he asked, grunting as a young Levithmong took a shining to him and leaned up against him heavily. Dean cautiously tried scratching it behind the ear, and the creature went completely limp, purring up at him.

Castiel paused, a shadow briefly flickering across his face. The angel reached out, fingers trailing along Hershey's side, tracing the giant heaving ribs.

"Anael was killed," he said quietly. "I have not had the heart to forge a bond with another."

Dean could sense the grief still attached to those words. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

The angel sighed, glancing up towards the sky. "There is a reason we use Levithmong to hunt and move through the forest. A reason why we rarely take to the clear skies."

The young Levithmong nestled its head against Dean's stomach, purrs reverberating against his skin. Another pressed along his back, head-butting him playfully and Dean awkwardly reached behind him to try and pet that one too.

"What do you mean? You guys have freaking  _wings._  I'm surprised you're down here with us mud-monkeys at all."

Gabriel pulled away from Hershey. "You're telling me. But there's something up there that likes making snacks out of us. At least the Levithmong can outrun it. Usually."

" _Teloch_ ," Castiel muttered. "Death from above. Many an angel has fallen before its rage."

Icy fingers tickled down Dean's spine. "Sounds scary."

Gabriel snorted. "You have  _no_  idea."

 

* * *

 

Far above the pasture, in the uppermost branches of the home tree, Michael looked down over his people. Gabriel's laughter could be heard on the wind along with the braying of Levithmong, and Michael smiled slightly. It seemed Castiel had chosen to start the human's education with riding. An amusing choice indeed.

Feathers rustled, and Michael recognized the weight of the wings that cleaved through the air to join him.

"You should not have allowed it, Michael. You welcomed the outsider with open arms."

Michael turned away from the edge of the nest, glaring as his brother landed.

"And why should we not, Lucifer?" he demanded, wings puffing as Lucifer glanced around the nest unimpressed. "Our people can, and  _will_ be slaughtered by these aliens unless we make peace. This,  _Dean_  could help us."

Lucifer's grey wings twitched as Michael stepped down from the branch, feet rustling against the rough fabric of the nest he had woven himself.

Michael crossed his arms, eyes stormy. "Father welcomed them."

"And Father died," Lucifer said bluntly. "Will you pay the same price he did?"

Michael growled, wings unfolding behind him to posture aggressively. "Father's death had nothing to do with them."

Recognizing the display, Lucifer lowered his own wings, feathers spreading. He was unwilling to completely submit to his brother however, eyes still hot and glaring. "It was because of that woman and you know it. Now her offspring is here! Ill omens, Michael. You should heed them."

The smoky scent of spice permeated Michael's nose, and his posture relaxed. From the core of the tree, Raphael climbed the last roughly hewn step, her delicate wings folded against her back. Michael had always thought her beautiful, graceful and commanding. She wore the band Michael had woven her for their mating ceremony around her neck—the bleached white tooth of a Vniglag he had slain for her, its proud centerpiece. She was his Queen, and she held herself as thus, chin high.

"And what would you know of omens, Lucifer?" she asked sharply, dark eyes glinting. Raphael may be the iadnamad, but she was by no means quiet or meek.

Lucifer sneered at her, though his wings bowed to her as was expected. "I fail to see what business you have here _._ "

Michael jerked his wing forward, striking Lucifer hard. His brother staggered back, wings bending lower in submission.

"Hold your tongue!" Michael snapped. "Raphael is my mate, and your iadnamad. You will treat her with  _respect_."

Lucifer snorted, crouching low to the ground. "Your marriage to the Vabzir clan is a sham. Don't try and make it genuine."

Michael's wing flexed, ready to deal out the punishment his brother so dearly deserved, but Raphael stopped him with a shake of her head. Michael stilled, withdrawing slightly and letting her approach the crouching angel.

She stood over Lucifer, wings perfectly still whereas Michael's twitched and fretted.

"Do you see my clan fighting yours?" Raphael asked quietly. Lucifer kept his gaze firmly trained on her feet, expression sullen. Raphael reached down to grab his chin with her slim fingers, forcing him to look up at her. "Do you see us slaughtering one another in the name of a ridiculous feud? No."

She dropped her fingers, and Lucifer once again stared at the ground. "Our union has ensured peace between the clans. You may not think it, Lucifer, but seeking peace is not unwise. If we can forge peace with the humans, then we must try."

The iadnamad moved away, moving into Michael's nuzzled her dark hair affectionately. Lucifer slowly rose from his crouched position, wings still carefully bowed.

"So you say. Are humans even capable of peace?"

Michael shot his brother a stern look. "Mary Winchester was no war monger."

"And look what happened to her," Lucifer shifted his wings irritably. "Killed by her own people. And just in case you somehow forgot,  _our father_  killed too."

"There was no  _killing_ , Lucifer. It was an accident," Raphael said firmly. "She was a friend of our people. Your father was honorable, and died an honorable death. But now, her son could be the answer to hostilities."

She moved from Michael's arms, leaning over the edge to stare down at the pasture below. "We cannot defeat them if they declare war. They have their machines, and their guns. We have nothing. Should they so decide, they can wipe us out."

Lucifer huffed unhappily. "So you entrust this to Castiel? The little fool should not be-"

"Castiel is capable," Raphael interrupted. "You would do well to believe that."

"Capable of ruining everything he touches," Lucifer muttered, slowly joining the two to look down at the clan below. "The fledgling will doom us."

Raphael sighed, shaking her head. The beads in her hair rattled, and Michael reached out to run his fingers along them carefully.

"He is a fledgling no longer," his mate said quietly, smiling at Michael. "It is about time you accept him as such, Lucifer. He is a baltoh and your brother."

Lucifer's lip curled in a sneer, eyes stormy where they watched the dark shape of his little brother below.

"Never."

 

* * *

 

Bobby's office was a cluttered mess of folders, holopads and half full coffee cups. That's the way the old scientist like it, and that's the way it had stayed. Jo shook her head, a crinkled and yellowed sheet of paper pinched between her forefinger and thumb.

"Still won't reconsider the whole cleaning thing, huh Daddy-o?"

When she got no reply, she glanced towards her step-father. Bobby was slumped at his desk, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"I feel like a worried mother hen," he muttered. "Worryin' 'bout that idiot boy out there. What if the angels-"

Jo chuckled, flicking her hair over one shoulder. "If there's one guy you shouldn't worry about, it's Dean. The angels had their chance to shishkebab him and didn't. So stop fretting."

Bobby smiled weakly at her. "I guess. Can't help it though. I'm a worrier, baby girl."

An old photograph was wedged between the computer and a stack of holopads on the desk, and Jo cautiously fished it out. A familiar face smiled back at her, and her fingers traced the worn photo lovingly, fingertips following the flick of a curl and the crinkle of a smile.

"Mom's looking a little worn there, Papa Bear," she commented quietly. "You know how much she hated wrinkles."

Bobby glanced up, noticing the photo. "Oh. Yeah," he cleared his throat, reaching out to retrieve the crinkled paper from her hand. Sliding open a drawer at his desk, he carefully, reverently, placed the picture inside. "Yeah. I just…wanted to see her."

Jo moved around the desk, resting her hands on her step-father's shoulders. "I think she'd be pretty proud of us though. She never did understand our science mumbo jumbo, but she supported us," she leant down, wrapping her arms around Bobby's neck, pressing her cheek close against his hair. "She'd be happy we're continuing."

Bobby squeezed the arms around his neck, leaning back into the circle of her arms.

"Sometimes I wonder if this base is cursed," he muttered. "First Mary, then our Ellen…"

Jo snorted, tightening her arms. "Dr. Campbell was killed in a lab fire. Mom died from cancer. I think the base is pretty blameless."

"Was it a mistake coming here?" Bobby continued, staring across his office, gaze far away. "If we had stayed on Earth, near the Citadel…maybe there'd be a doctor-"

"Don't," Jo's voice was firm, her grip hard as she hugged Bobby. "Mom wanted to come out here just as much as you and I did. She loved Oadriax. Best we can do to honor her is save it. Save the Ne'gassagen."

Bobby chuckled as she pressed a quick kiss against the rough stubble of his cheek. She pulled away, releasing him, and he turned to look up at her affectionately. "When did you get so wise?"

Jo shrugged, cocking her hip as she winked. "Probably around the time I got so awesome. Y'know. At birth."

The office door slid open and a dark figure stepped inside. Outlined by the harsh lab lights, both scientists could only squint in confusion for a second, before a familiar cultured voice broke the silence.

"Well if it isn't Goldilocks. How's that shooting arm of yours?"

Jo shot a look towards her step-father, stepping away. "Doing just fine, thanks."

Crowley crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow at the young blonde as she moved past him.

"So I hear. Killed any demons lately?"

"As if!" Jo sniffed haughtily. "I barely grazed him!"

"You nearly shot his arm off."

"Little creep shouldn't touch things that aren't his," Jo sauntered out of the office, turning to glare at Crowley one last time. " _Especially,_  butts that don't belong to him."

The door slid shut, and Crowley laughed out loud, shaking his head with admiration as he moved further into the office.

"I don't know what's funnier Robert, the fact that every demon on base,  _including_ Azazel, is actually afraid of you, or that your little firecracker daughter nearly killed a demon with an  _air rifle._ "

Bobby reached for a pile of papers, needing to keep his fingers busy with something. Those red eyes watched him as he shuffled through the pile, and Bobby glared at the demon, teeth already grinding. "Is there a reason you grace me with your presence?"

Crowley shrugged, turning away to glance at the various certificates and awards lining the walls. "I got bored. Only so many secretaries I can harass, and after a while, even Azazel gets boring to poke."

He paused at a small side table, making a face at a coffee cup half-filled with cold and sludge-like coffee. He gave it an experimental flick, and a dust cloud rose from the surrounding papers.

"No angel today then?" he murmured.

Bobby stiffened, papers stilling in his hands. Crowley moved away from the table, fingers trailing along the back of a wooden chair that had lain forgotten in a corner.

"Oh relax. Like I actually give a rat's ass," the chair scraped across the carpet, joints creaking as the demon pulled it over to Bobby's desk. Twirling it around, he straddled it, resting his arms on the back. "How you get results doesn't really matter to me, just as long as you get them."

Bobby slapped the paper stack back down. "How do you even _know_  about Gabriel?"

"Know all, see all," Crowley shrugged, red eyes bright in the dim light of the office. "This is my kingdom, Robert. I keep an eye on my subjects."

"Well then your  _royal highness_ , maybe you could control some of 'em."

The demon frowned, shifting slightly on the hard chair. "Meaning?"

Bobby glared at him, leaning across his desk to point at the demon angrily. "Don't pretend you don't know. Azazel and those lackey's of his have their eyes on Dean. I want them directed elsewhere."

Crowley didn't even bother to try and look like he didn't understand. "What are you implying? I'm sure I have no idea."

"You know what I mean!" Bobby's voice echoed around the office. "When Mary was alive she could barely go two paces without that slimy bastard Alistair houndin' her every step. Poor woman never went anywhere alone. And  _now,_ I see those same black eyes followin' her  _son-_ "

Bobby's eyes were ice, his voice low and gruff. "I'll kill that son of a bitch if he tries anythin'. Those boys are part of my team, my _family_."

Crowley sighed, holding his hands up. "I wish it was that simple. But Azazel…Azazel is not a demon to be fucked with. My power over him only extends so far, and he has friends back home.  _Big_ friends. Do you know what that yellow bastard would do to me? Or  _have_ done to me?"

Crowley leaned forward, eyes serious. "I saw it once, on Hel. Yellow eyes don't screw around you know."

Bobby ran a rand through his greying hair, shoulders slumping. He thumped one fist down on the pile of papers angrily.

"I know. And Dean sure as hell knows. Kid has been dealt a shitty hand in life, and I don't want it gettin' any worse. So just…help me out here, and keep that scum under control."

"You're asking a big favor here Singer," Crowley tapped his chin thoughtfully. "If I'm going to put my, rather shapely by the way,  _arse_  on the line for you, I have to know there's something in it for me."

Bobby stared at the demon, fingers drumming the desk angrily. "Like what?"

"Oh I don't know…" Crowley glanced at the ceiling as if pondering the question. "How about you dial it down on the whole crotchety bastard routine, hand in your reports on time with  _no_ swearing, and I'm allowed to enter your biolabs at any time, any day. Oh and whenever you're around other personnel in my presence, you have to call me 'Lord Crowley' or 'Your Majesty'. You pick."

Bobby's teeth creaked as he ground them together. Crowley merely smiled back at him, smug and unrepentant.

"And you'll keep Azazel off Dean?" Bobby asked gruffly. "Alistair too?"

Crowley shrugged. "Azazel I can probably do. Alistair? Well I'll try, but that little shit is slimier than an oiled up eel. But I have my ways."

Bobby mulled that over sullenly. Crowley may be a pain in the ass, but he was true to his word. To keep Dean in one piece would only cost all of Bobby's pride apparently. A small price to pay, considering.

"Alright," Bobby growled. "Alright, you son of a bitch. Yes."

Crowley wiggled a finger in his ear. "Sorry?" he asked innocently. "Didn't  _quite_ catch that."

Bobby's glare would have killed a lesser creature. "Yes,  _Lord Crowley._ "

Crowley smiled, red eyes bright and winking. "See, darling? That wasn't so hard."

"So we have a deal," grumbling to himself, Bobby held out his hand. "You reds are into deals aren't you? Bet you get off on this."

Crowley rose from his chair, slowly moving to stand in front of the desk, looking at Bobby's outstretched hand. Before Bobby could process the wicked smile on the demon's face, Crowley's fingers closed around his offered hand, circling around his wrist. With a sharp tug, Bobby was dragged forward, half draped over his own desk.

Crowley grinned at him, face only inches away. "You have  _no_ idea, darling."

Bobby stared at the demon, wide eyed and baffled. Crowley's red eyes bore into his, almost hypnotic, and when the demon smiled, it was all teeth. "And to seal them, we don't just shake hands."

Before he could really process what was happening, Crowley tugged him forward again. Papers went scattering as Bobby slammed his hands down on the desk to prevent a face plant. Crowley's fingers scraped Bobby's scalp as the demon grabbed the back of the scientist's head to pull him into a punishing kiss. Teeth clicked against his and Bobby drew in a startled breath, caught off guard. There was the brief flick of a tongue against his upper lip, and then Crowley was pulling away.

Bobby just gawked at him, for once, completely speechless.

"Alright then. It's a deal," the demon winked, already turning and heading for the door. "I'll try to keep the hounds at bay. Just keep up your end, Robert."

Bobby sat there, blinking, unsure of what had really just happened.

"Bobby," he muttered dazedly.

Crowley paused, the door sliding open in front of him. Outlined in the lab lights beyond, he looked like a solid shadow. "What?"

"My name," Bobby shook himself, wondering if he was suffering from a sudden episode of dementia and living in some sort of absurd nightmare. "You might as well use it."

Crowley smiled, stepping out into the lab without a word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

"You have _got_  to be kidding me."

Castiel cocked his head curiously, passing a thick leather strap beneath the creature Dean was currently eyeing unhappily.

"I am not. The hunting grounds are further than you can walk, and it is safer to travel by Levithmong."

Dean stared at the beast as Hershey preened himself, neck craned to rub one reptilian cheek against his leg. Over the past week Dean had been attempting to learn how to speak to the stupid beasts, and had had pretty good success.

With Levithmong's who  _weren't_ called Hershey that is.

Castiel tugged the strap into place, and Dean made a face.

"But do we have to take  _this_ one?" he asked exasperatedly. " _This_ one wants to kill me."

As if in agreement, Hershey snorted loudly, pawing at the earth. Castiel rapped his fingers gently against the hard plating of the animal's back as he cinched the stiff leather into place. A rough leather sheet woven together with individual strands covered half the beast's back, several thick straps dangling from it. A darker leather pouch was secured at the base of Hershey's spine, full of supplies. Near as Dean could tell, he was looking at the angel equivalent to a saddle. How it would keep him physically  _on_ the beast from hell was beyond him.

"Hershey is the only Levithmong I have forged a close enough bond to since losing my own. Gabriel has been most gracious in allowing us to use him," Castiel tested the reins, and the Levithmong bumped him with one meaty shoulder.

Dean squinted at it, making sure all four eyes were on him. "Behave."

The beast honked at him insolently, beak clicking as Castiel helped Dean up onto its back. After some uncomfortable wiggling, Dean managed to settle himself on the leather, fitting his legs into the slight grooves of the saddle. "What's that? The clicking thing they do."

Castiel looked amused as he helped cinch the saddle straps around Dean's right thigh. "It is laughter."

"Great."

Dean shifted nervously as Castiel moved around Hershey to Dean's other leg, the angel's fingers moving self-assuredly across Dean's knee. Castiel's hands were warm where they lifted his thigh, settling Dean more firmly into the saddle. The angel was perfectly comfortable with touching the human apparently.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean cleared his throat nervously, and Castiel paused, glancing up. "We uh, personal space dude?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, pulling the last strap  _hard_  and forcing a yelp from Dean.

"You humans and your space," he muttered. "It is necessary to fit you properly to the  _zimz._  You would fall and die otherwise."

Dean's face felt hot. "Right. Uh, right."

With a flap of his wings, Castiel slid up behind Dean, leggings sliding smoothly against the leather saddle. Dean squawked unhappily as the angel moved in close, chest pressed flush up against Dean's back. Folding his wings in close to his body, Castiel set his hips firmly up against Dean's, nonchalantly looping the back straps of the saddle around his own legs. Dean floundered, held in place by his own straps as his ass was pushed snugly into the cradle of Castiel's hips.

" _Cas!_ " he barked, voice high and panicked. "What the hell!?"

The angel ignored him, arms sliding beneath Dean's elbows. "You will hold the reins. I will direct you."

Their noble steed-for-the-day shifted, muscles already vibrating with expectant glee. The reins were shorter than Dean was used to, forcing him to stay in a forward ducked position, leaning over Hershey's thick neck.

"You, you're like  _molded_ against my ass," Dean protested, cheeks flushed. "You guys actually ride like this?"

Oh man, that was a poor choice of words.

Castiel shifted behind him, warm breath brushing the back of Dean's neck and sending his nervous system into spasms. "It is necessary. You are learning, and riding can be dangerous."

Dean's nerveless fingers gripped the reins, clutching them towards his chest like a scandalized maiden. "If this is just an attempt to somehow feel me up, I am going to  _kill you,_  Cas."

He could actually  _feel_  the angel smile against his neck. "Noted. Now go."

Hershey gave an impatient snort, and Dean tried to get himself back under control.

No problem. He could do this. This wasn't weird. This was just Cas showing him how to ride. Nothing strange going on here.

…Right.

Dean snapped the reins cautiously, and Hershey set off with a happy bleat, trotting through the tall grass with tail held high. Dean's spine jarred against the beast's gait, and he gave another experimental snap, hoping to find a smoother speed that would ease the discomfort. The Levithmong broke into a run, six legs pounding the earth as it sped through the pasture, headed for the forest.

Dean winced at the new tempo, struggling to find a good rhythm, and Castiel leant into him.

"Like this," Castiel's hands settled on Dean's hips, fingers gripping him lightly and forcing him to settle more into the angel's own rhythm, hips rolling with practiced ease.

Dean felt like he was in some sort of crazy-ass porno, bouncing around on the angel's lap. Thank God Sam wasn't here, or else he might die from embarrassment. It was horribly distracting, trying to concentrate on driving a large, self-aware _tank_ , with the solid pressure of a very  _male_ shaped angel pressing up against him in interesting places.

Did he say interesting? Annoying. Terrible. Awful and definitely not enjoyable in any way, shape, or form.

But the discomfort of his jarred spine finally outweighed his potential embarrassment, and Dean forced himself to relax, jaw clenched and heart pounding. His hips followed the firm line of Castiel's, and the dull ache in his spine disappeared. Instead, in his forward leaning position, the front of his suddenly aching groin was chafing against the leather clad ridges of Hershey's back.

Son of a  _bitch_.

"Head for the tree," Castiel's hand left Dean's hip to touch his elbow gently, steering the excited Levithmong towards a single thick tree. "And squeeze with your legs."

Dean gaped. "Are you crazy? We'll crash into it!"

The angel actually laughed, chest vibrating against Dean's back. "Trust me."

The tree loomed towards them, the Levithmong honking happily as it sped towards it and Dean slammed his eyes shut, fully expecting to crash into it full speed. Instead, with a powerful lunge, Hershey leapt up onto the tree, talons raking the bark with loud cracks as he shimmied upward. Leaves shook from the branches, a cascade of green hitting against Dean's arms.

Dean finally understood the purpose of the weird saddle; leaning forward as Hershey climbed was easier, the straps around his thighs keeping him in place. Castiel leant against his back and Dean could feel the steady thump of his heart.

"Now do you understand?"

Dean forced his eyes open as the Levithmong leapt towards another tree, talons gripping the bark confidently as the beast did its best to make Dean throw up his breakfast.

"I think, I actually, oh god, prefer  _flying_."

 

* * *

 

Castiel was generally a patient creature by nature. A lifetime of enduring both Gabriel  _and_ Balthazar had molded him thus, so it was perplexing for him to spend time with what seemed to be one of the most  _im_ patient of humans.

Castiel had yet to find an activity that the human seemed to enjoy. Dean hated riding, hated language, hated cooking and sewing, and even hated flying when Castiel attempted to take him. He would make his displeasure clear, with yelled words and wild hand motions.

It was at best,  _frustrating._

It was at times, almost intolerable. Even a mere touch of the arm during a demonstration would have the human blustering and gesturing. Dean did not appreciate help nor did he like Castiel touching him.

So of course, Castiel ruthlessly did both. He offered his help at every opportunity, touched Dean even when the moment did not require it. It was his way of rebellion, his clumsy attempt at bridging the strange gap they seemed to have in communication.

Angels touched one another often. It was comforting and necessary. Wings were important in that respect, for posturing, and play, or comfort. Grooming was important for building relationships and touching helped build bonds between angels, siblings or not.

But humans had no wings.

Castiel could not groom Dean. He could not offer comfort with a single flap, nor convey his own need in return. The human's back was a blank canvas, a smooth plane of skin that made it near impossible to gauge Dean's moods. And Dean could not read Castiel's own wings, could not understand the silent language of the Ne'gassagen.

The first few days were…difficult. Castiel doubted Raphael's wisdom to entrust Dean's education to him, and even questioned his decision to save Dean back in the forest. It was not a decision he had  _planned._  When he had seen the man running through the forest, an enraged Vniglag taking chase, he had been tempted to leave the human to his fate. It was no concern of his should another human perish. Lucifer had long been telling them how the humans were evil, corrupted and vicious. That war would soon be upon them. What was one less? One less potential enemy, one less soul that Castiel would one day be forced to destroy.

But something had prompted him forward. A gentle push he could not explain. And in that moment, perhaps one of weakness, Castiel had made a decision. He distracted the Vniglag, giving Dean enough time to escape, though it was over a waterfall. When Castiel finally found the human again, the idiot had taken on an entire pack of Esmong.

Brave, but stupid.  _Incredibly_  stupid.

His wings had trembled at the sight, a panic settling in his chest as Castiel watched Dean fall beneath the weight of the pack. He had thought the human lost; his efforts in vain. But Dean was still alive, though heavily wounded, when Castiel landed over him. Castiel could see the tendrils of life leaving the human, the bright lines that leaked sluggishly through the red gash in his shoulder. Castiel hadn't thought, didn't pause, wrapping his wings around the human as he pressed himself as close as he could. It took a great effort to heal Dean, but he had. He had sheltered the human through that dark night, Dean cradled against his chest like a newborn as they sought safety in the trees.

Dean did not know about that night. Did not know the hours Castiel had spent staring at the human's face, tracing the lines and contours of the soul he had saved. Wondering if it was a mistake, if he had been wrong to save such an unfathomable creature.

But Castiel did not regret his decision.

There was a reason Dean had stumbled into Castiel's life. It was not his place to question Geiad and Her strange ways. Castiel could not regret his path if Geiad had chosen it for him.

Dean was loud. He was angry and happy, furious and bright and just… _Dean._ Castiel could not rely on reading Dean's wings. He could neither rely on his own knowledge of humans, nor what Gabriel told him. Castiel developed his own way of reading Dean. He found himself carefully watching Dean's face, tracking the small furrow between the man's eyes which meant he was frustrated, the slight curve of his mouth when amused, and Castiel's favorite, the softness in Dean's eyes whenever he said  _Cas_.

_Cas._

Castiel had never been given a nickname before. Well, one that wasn't rudely whistled by a brother at least. A nickname was a show of affection, a certain code of camaraderie that humans employed with those that they liked. Or so he had been told.

And Castiel…Castiel found he  _liked_ Dean.

 

* * *

 

The hunting ground Castiel guided them to had long ago been abandoned, proven too sparse with game. Set in a small grassy clearing, Castiel often came here to practice his skills, away from the disapproving eyes of his siblings. Back when Anael had been alive, he had come here often, practicing his archery as the Levithmong rolled in the grass, honking happily. There were happy memories etched into the very soil here, and the grasses trembled with joy to see him again.

Hershey could sense it, how the lulled humming of the insects hitched as the Levithmong dropped down to the dirt, and he pranced excitedly, already yearning to explore and taste the flowers.

Castiel unstrapped himself, dismounting with an easy flap of his wings. His chest was warm where he had been pressed against Dean's back, and his fingers automatically reached for the human, touching the rough fabric covering one leg. Dean, of course, spluttered. His face flushing red as he slapped Castiel's hands away, stubbornly unstrapping himself.

The human slid to the ground on unsteady legs, wobbling uncertainly for a moment as Hershey took off with a bleat.

"Next time we walk," Dean ground, glaring viciously at the beast that had carried them there, but Hershey ignored him, already happily grazing along the thicket of flowers that blossomed around them.

Castiel hid a smile. "Of course, Dean."

The Levithmong took no notice of the angel as Castiel retrieved the few weapons he had brought with them from the dark pouch of the zimz, wood rattling hollowly. He tossed the bow towards Dean, who caught it awkwardly in one hand.

"We shall practice your  _mal_ , today."

The human looked adorably perplexed. It was times like this that Castiel yearned to be able to touch the human freely, to run his fingers along Dean's jaw, smooth his thumbs over the lines of stress and worry. Humans had some of the purest malprigzch Castiel had ever seen, but they lacked the ability to touch it, control it as the angels did. Dean's shone so very bright, pure and pulsing.

If Castiel concentrated on it, he could hear laughter, two small boys playing in a field of gold. He could almost see a man, strong and dark with a deep voice, though he rarely spoke. He could smell the sharp sting of water, could hear the creaking of a rickety pier as water lapped against the crumbling wood.

When Castiel had healed Dean that night, his malprigzch had touched the human's briefly. Dean had wrapped around him so tightly, so very frightened and desperate, it had taken the angel by surprise. He had faltered, losing himself for a moment in it, allowing it to reach for him though he knew it was forbidden. Knew he should not have.

He had lost himself in  _Dean,_  and Castiel had never wanted to be found again.

Castiel watched Dean now, watched the uncertainty swirl inside him with sick grey wisps. The edges of his malprigzch was frayed and tarnished, black sores upon an otherwise pure soul. Something had affected Dean long ago, some dark and terrible evil that left the secret parts of him deformed and rotten. But even the darkness did not change what Castiel saw and felt.

Dean was the most beautiful creature Castiel had ever seen.

Dean cocked his hip insolently, tapping the bow against his leg impatiently. " _Mal_? Care to enlighten the stupid human, Cas?"

Embarrassed to have been caught so openly admiring, Castiel turned away, wings agitated and embarrassed.

"Archery," he bit out curtly, grabbing a quiver from the assortment of things he had brought. "Our primary weapons are our bows. It is important you learn how to use one."

Castiel was surprised by the sudden spark of anger that sent Dean's malprigzch a deep red, a roar echoing from its depths. "I can't."

"You have not even tried," Castiel pointed out, frustrated. "Dean, you must at least  _try-_ "

"I  _can't_!" Dean snapped, throwing the bow to the ground. It bounced against the soft grass. "This is stupid. I can't do it and that's that alright?"

Castiel's wings flexed. "Why must you be so difficult?"

Dean jabbed an angry finger towards him. "And why do you have to be so pushy? I said I can't!"

Dean was a mess of red and dull brown, unhappy and hurt. Castiel's anger receded, and he longed to reach out to soothe the human, ease the dark lines that pulsed from Dean in oily tendrils. The negative energy was centered on Dean's hand, and Castiel strode forward, grabbing the human's hand before he could protest. His fingers trailed over the callused skin, turning Dean's palm towards the sky before the man could pull his hand back.

Etched into Dean's palm was a spidery white line of scar tissue. To human eyes it was clean and just a scar, but Castiel could see the wound beneath. Jagged black tendrils pulsed just beneath the skin, wicked and diseased. Something terrible had given this to Dean and it haunted him still.

"You were injured," he said calmly, reaching out with his own malprigzchto try and soothe the darkness.

Dean tugged his hand back, retreating from the angel physically and emotionally.

"It's nothing," he bit out, looking away from Castiel as he rubbed his palm nervously. "Just, stiff sometimes."

Castiel knew when to withdraw. He nodded, pulling away. "If you cannot fire with this hand, we can try the other."

Dean made a noise of annoyance, throwing his hands up. "It's not that it's just— _God_  I'm hot and disgusting and  _fed up with this shit!"_

It was not Castiel, Dean was truly mad it. Nor did his hand hurt greatly. Darkness pulsed within him, brought to life once again by memories, and it crowded Dean, parasitic and gleeful. Though Dean had made it clear he wanted no contact, Castiel reached out once again, his own life force a shimmering silver, concentrating on the point he had first touched Dean.

The human seemed to sense the touch, and shuddered. The darkness calmed, no longer choking.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, rubbing his arms. "It's uh, I got it on Hel."

Castiel settled down on the grass, seed pods brushing against his arms. This was something important, something Dean needed to talk about. "Another world?"

Dean looked surprised that Castiel knew about other places, other planets. "Uh, yeah."

He slowly settled down in front of Castiel, legs crossed and head bowed. The heat of the day rose from the plants around them, fragrant blossoms on the breeze. If there was a place to unburden dark thoughts, this was it.

Dean's fingers traced the jagged line across his palm. "Hot as fuck there, even worse than here."

A surge of curiosity blazed within him, and Castiel's wings flared. "Are there creatures like me?"

Dean laughed, low and bitter. Castiel did not like the sound. "No. No, they're the opposite. We call 'em demons."

Demons. Just the word darkened Dean further. Castiel drew his legs up towards his chest, long blades of grass scratching against the hide of his leggings. "I take it they are unpleasant."

"There was…a war." Dean seemed to struggle for the words, eyes focusing on the grass between them. Castiel had seen angels look like that, veterans that had fought during the Clan wars, when life was not as peaceful as it was now.

"You fought," he prompted gently.

"Yeah," Dean sighed, eyes flickering up to Castiel's face. "Yeah I uh, I was a First Lieutenant. Lost a lot of good men and women. Lost…lost family."

Castiel's wings lay perfectly still. It made sense then, the sadness Dean carried within him so obviously. "It must have been difficult."

"You could say that," Dean's green eyes bore into his. "Ever been in a war, Cas?"

"No."

Castiel had been blessed to have avoided spilling blood in his lifetime. He was trained as a warrior of course, but by the time of his birth, the wars were long over. Sometimes Gabriel would tell him stories, tales to send the young ones scattering with high pitched screams just before bed. War was not something he yearned to experience.

"Well, try and keep it that way okay? Hel, Hel changed me," Dean ducked his head again, fingers pulling at the grass.

Castiel was unsure what he should offer. Dean had made it clear physical touching was unwelcome. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Dean smiled up at him, but it was forced. "It happened a long time ago. No point dwelling right?"

Castiel smiled back at him, sensing there were a great many things the human did not want to say. Could not say. It was not his place to force Dean to speak of them. "Did Sam fight too?"

Dean's whole being lit up at Sam's name. Castiel reveled in it, loved how the darkness could be so easily overcome by one name. One human who obviously meant everything to Dean.

"Nah. Kid stayed in school like I wanted him to," Dean was proud, Castiel realized. Proud that he had saved his brother from the very same darkness that now consumed him. "Sam wanted, well,  _this_."

He gestured around them, towards the forest. Hershey raised his head from grazing to glare at the human suspiciously, and Dean blew a kiss at the Levithmong with a wink. Snorting haughtily, Hershey resumed his grazing.

Dean sighed, eyes trailing along the weeds and vines. "Man, Sam would love this. Hanging around with angels and stuff. Sucks that he can't."

Castiel desperately wanted to meet him. To meet the man Dean spoke of so lovingly. Perhaps he could ask Michael-

Dean chuckled, startling Castiel back to the conversation at hand. "God sure is a mean bastard, though. Likes making my life hard."

That name. Dean said it often, when angry or frustrated.

Castiel cocked his head curiously. "You speak of this  _God_  often. What has he done to displease you so?"

"No he's, it's  _cursing,_  Cas," Dean pulled at a strand of grass under his knee. "God isn't a person he's…a…"

A bird called high above him, relaxed and content as Dean struggled to explain. Castiel fanned his wings as he waited, relishing the sun's rays on his feathers.

"Look," Dean said finally, with a grimace. "On Earth he's this invisible dude with a beard that sits on a cloud and people pray to. Blame him when things go wrong."

Castiel frowned. "I highly doubt it is his fault."

Dean laughed, and Castiel's heart leapt at the sound. "No it…he's not  _real,_  Cas. They say he created the world in seven days and shit. It's all just bull."

Understanding dawned on the angel. "He is your Geiad. The maker."

"Yeah," Dean looked pleased, impressed Castiel understood. "Yeah, God is our Geiad on Earth."

Castiel shifted closer, wings twitching excitedly. "Would you show me? I would very much like to experience this,  _God,_  with you."

"What, you mean like  _praying_?" Dean did not shift away as Castiel moved closer, their knees brushing.

Castiel nodded. Dean had spoken so little of his own culture, and Castiel was so very curious. What was Earth like? Were there many humans? It seemed fitting and right to pray to Dean's Geiad first. Perhaps this God would help Dean become a Ne'gassagen.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, mouth downturned in a slight frown. "Well praying is just, you know, thanking Him for stuff. Or asking for help."

He raised his hands, folding them together, and laughed as Castiel copied him, face serious.

"Like so?" Dean was stifling a laugh, Castiel could tell. The human's soul was bright and gold, pleased as Castiel closed his eyes, holding his folded hands in front of him.

"Dear God," a spike of warmth brushing up against him signaled Dean was very amused, and Castiel struggled to keep his face blank. "I thank you for delivering Dean to my tribe and allowing me to get to know him. I am honored to call him a friend. I promise to keep him safe, and honor your name as I do  _Geiad_ , the Creator of my own world."

He opened his eyes to look at Dean questioningly. The human's green eyes were bright, the darkness that had clouded his soul, gone.

"Amen," he supplied, and Castiel mirrored a smile back at him.

"Amen."

 

* * *

 

It was late by the time Dean got back to the complex, the halls deserted.

Dean trudged along tiredly, the sounds of his dragging boots bouncing off the sterile white walls. Even the biolabs were dark as he passed by, and he gave a deep sigh.

Castiel had tired him out with shooting lessons. After their  _bonding_ moment or whatever the hell it was, Castiel had insisted he try shooting with the bow. Dean was surprised to find he was actually pretty good at it, managing to hit the target dead on twice. But the whole thing had left Dean freaked out. The riding with Castiel pressed up against him like, well, just the whole  _pressing_ thing was bad enough. He just wanted to go to sleep forever. Maybe then he could forget his splurge of  _feelings_ he had accidentally unleashed on the angel. It was just tiredness, that was it. He wasn't thinking straight. What was a guy to think, being all squashed up against a good looking angel if he wasn't at his best? Yeah. That was it. This was totally Cas's fault. Taking advantage of him in his tired and…human-ish state. Yeah.

God, he needed to find a hole to bury himself in, pronto.

Goddam,  _feelings._  Seriously. He was turning into Sam.

Dean yawned, rubbing his eyes as his feet determinedly continued forward. His footsteps sounded eerie; the only movement along the seemingly endless hallway. The door that led towards the living quarters wavered in the distance, and Dean smiled at it, already anticipating the soft mattress that waited for him.

Without warning a body slammed into him from behind, vice like fingers digging into the soft skin of his arm, yanking and twisting. Dean was crowded up against the wall, the air forced out his lungs in a throaty gasp as his arm was twisted painfully up behind his back. His free hand clawed uselessly at the hard wall as fingers grabbed his short hair, nails scraping his scalp as his head was yanked back to expose his throat. Masculine hips ground up against his ass, a beard prickling the skin of his throat as he struggled to breathe.

"Having fun playing with the angels, rabbit?"

Dean struggled, pushing against the body at his back.

_Alistair._

"Get off me you  _fuck_! I'll fucking kill you!" he choked out, thrashing against the demon.

His words echoed around them, as empty as the hallway, and Alistair chuckled. Slowly he inhaled, rubbing his lips across Dean's throat, blunt teeth just shy of scraping. Dean's heart pounded against his ribs, galloping beneath his skin, and the demon mouthed the panicked pulse.

"The Colonel is just wondering how it's all going," Alistair smiled against Dean's skin, pressing the human harder against the wall. "You haven't paid us a visit for a while,  _Dean._  Rude."

He was trapped, restrained and helpless against a creature much stronger than him. Snarling, Dean bucked wildly, trying to land a good head butt in, but Alistair held him in place easily. The demon tutted, kicking Dean's legs apart and wedging the human harder against him.

"He thinks you need a little," the demon twisted hard, forcing a pained grunt from the man beneath him. " _Reminder_ as to who you really belong to here."

Alistair nudged his hips harder against Dean's ass, his intentions clear and Dean froze, sweating and fearful. His vision was going blurry, mind already beginning to tuck itself away, disbelieving at the reality forced on it.

Teeth nipped his ear, and Dean renewed his fruitless struggles.

"Ah-ah," Alistair chided him, and Dean's arm was wrenched up harder. "You stay right here with me and take it like a good little rabbit now. Scream if you want. No-one is even going to  _hear_ , let alone care enough t-"

It was the sudden opening of a door that interrupted him, and Alistair pulled away, glaring down the hallway as Dean slumped against the wall, wide eyed and chest heaving. Bolting from the sliding door like a greyhound from a gate, came Ruby. She jogged towards the two, bare fleet slapping against the gleaming floor.

"Oh there you are Dean! Wow I totally forgot about our little pow wow, sorry about that. Did you wait up for me?"

Dean stared at her blankly. The demon was dressed in cotton shorts and a black strappy top—corporation issued sleep wear. Her usually meticulously groomed hair was bushy and wild, one side flattened. Dark smudges under her eyes also revealed that up until  _very_ recently, the demon had been asleep.  _In bed._

 _Which makes no sense_ , Dean thought stupidly, watching her as she neared,  _the demon living quarters are halfway across the base_.  _To get here it would take a good ten minutes of flat out running._

Ruby was out of breath as she drew up to the two men, saluting smartly towards the enraged looking Alistair.

"Alistair! How nice of you to help Dean find his quarters. No worries, I can take it from here."

Dean was still a stunned mess, legs weak and shaking as Ruby hauled him up by one arm.

"Come on handsome. Let's get you to bed before that giant sister of yours worries!" Ruby's voice was sickly sweet, but her hand trembled under Dean's armpit as she tugged him along. Dully, Dean realized his t-shirt was soaked with sweat, sticking to him with liquid fear.

Ruby ushered him through the door she had entered from, and as the door slid shut behind them, she bit out a curse in her native tongue. She didn't let go of Dean, apparently intent on manhandling him all the way to his quarters. The living quarter corridor was cluttered with lockers and forgotten equipment, and a haphazardly stacked pile of coats spilled onto the floor as Ruby kicked at it.

Dean tried to protest, boots squeaking along the floor. "He was…you-"

" _Shut up,"_  Ruby snapped at him, black eyes glittering in the harsh hallway light. "My beauty sleep has been  _ruined_. And the impromptu fifteen minute run?  _Not cool._ There's a reason I use a fucking helicraft to get around!"

With a snarl, Dean shoved the demon away. She tripped in surprise, only just regaining her balance before crashing into a storage locker. Dean leant against the wall, relishing the cold against his over-heated skin. He felt sick, nauseous and vulnerable. The last thing he wanted to be around was another  _demon._

"I don't need  _protection,_ " he spat as his skin shivered. "I can handle myself just fine."

Ruby arched an eyebrow, cocking one hip. Her thin sleep shorts rode up her thigh and under any other circumstances Dean might have ogled. Now he just felt sick, as he bent over, breathing deeply.

"Oh yeah," Ruby snorted. "Great job, cowboy. You're just  _oozing_ control. Guess Alistair just wanted to give you a friendly hug, was that it? With his  _dick_?"

His stomach heaved, and Dean clapped a hand to his mouth, drunkenly looking around for something to vomit into. Something tapped his arm, and he turned to see an offered grey bucket. Ruby held it for him as he crouched on the floor, heaving.

As the waves of nausea passed, Ruby patted his shoulder awkwardly, setting down the bucket with a grimace.

"It's okay. That was my first reaction to him too."

Dean managed a weak smile, hands shaking as he tucked them under his armpits. He felt cold, bone-tired and even sorer.

"Thanks. I uh, just thanks."

Ruby sighed, crossing her arms. "Don't thank me. Wasn't  _my_ idea to go running around in my pajamas trying to save your virtue. But what boss man says, I do."

The demon sidled up to him, sliding his arm around her neck as she forcibly shuffled him along towards his quarters. Dean leaned against her, eyes heavy as the adrenaline in his veins receded.

"Boss man?" he asked wearily. Ruby shifted his arm, grunting.

"Don't even try, I'm sworn to secrecy," she grimaced. "Look, I did my part. Want my advice? Don't go anywhere alone. Stick to Dr. Singer like glue. For some reason Alistair is terrified of the grump. Actually wait, I  _completely_  understand. That old bastard is terrifying."

Dean had never been so happy to see a door before as his quarters came into view. Ruby ducked under his arm, punching in the code he mumbled at her and helping him inside as the door slid open. Sam was fast asleep and snoring, one pale foot poking out from the covers. Ruby shot a disbelieving look at the slumbering human, but Dean just shook his head.

"Heavy sleeper."

"Ah."

The two shuffled towards Dean's bed, Dean sinking down with an appreciative sigh. Ruby was outlined by the light spilling into the apartment from the hallway outside when Dean glanced up at her.

"I uh, thanks again. I don't, I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up."

The corner of her mouth quirked, and Ruby reached out to ruffle his hair. Dean winced at the soreness of his scalp, and she withdrew immediately.

"We're not all bad, Dean," she said softly. "Just some of us."

Dean nodded tightly, and Ruby left, the door sliding shut behind her. The room lapsed into quiet, only occasionally punctuated by the soft snores of Sam. Dean struggled out of his clothes in the dark, ID tags clinking. Stretching out on the bed, he breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself. His stomach was still a knotted mess, his limbs jittery and skin stretched too tight over his muscles. His body felt alien to him, fingerprint bruises tender along his arm. Where Alistair had….was almost…

He blinked, staring up into black. Hysteria was rising in his chest, brain coming to grips with what just happened. Unexplainably, he found his hand clutching his shoulder, tracing the slightly raised scar an angel had left him. Slotting his fingers where Castiel's had once been he felt a flood of calm, and his body relaxed, chest loosening.

 

* * *

 

Dean's legs pumped as he sprinted towards cover, rifle creaking in his hands as explosions went off around him, showering him with dirt. Men screamed in the smoke, their attackers' victory cries loud and keening. A dark shadow rose off to his left, and Dean cut it down absently, rifle spitting.

Shrapnel ripped into his side, and Dean dropped to his stomach, breathing deeply. The sharp tang of blood flooded his senses, thick and dripping, and he coughed, crawling forward on his belly. To his right, something followed him, cutting through the smoke easily. Two pale bare feet padded alongside him, trailing through blood and dirt yet remaining clean. Dean squinted upwards, tilting his helmet back.

Familiar blue eyes gazed down at him, a contrast to the bloodshot sky.

"Hello, Dean."

"Jesus Cas!" Dean blurted, spitting dirt out of his mouth as a grenade exploded nearby. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The angel looked around them, pulling his wings in close. A marine, blackened by flames and uniform still smoldering, tilted by in a plume of flame, mouth wide and straining. He didn't make a sound. "You are dreaming."

"No shit," Dean growled, shooting at a demon that crouched over a screaming young soldier. The boy was barely seventeen, should never have seen a battlefield, but the war had taken its toll on Earth's troops. The demon sliced down with its blade, the boy's screams turning to wet gurgles. Carving yet another statistic that would be mailed home with heartfelt words.

Dean put a bullet between the demon's eyes, its skull shattering, and scattering brain matter through the air like slick rain.

Dean grunted, wiping a piece from his cheek. "You're kinda in the wrong place. No angels in this dream."

Castiel's wings flexed, lifting him off the ground briefly as a demon scuttled beneath him. Dean put it down with a spray of bullets, and it slumped lifelessly, dark blood oozing out of the cavity of its chest. Dean ignored the twitching corpse, wriggling forward on his stomach through its hot trail of gore.

"Can you come back later? I'm kind of busy."

The rifle was slippery in his hands, fingers drenched red. Castiel landed again, the whole of him pristine and clean despite the horror around him.

"I felt your distress. The link was open, so I came."

Dean gritted his teeth, getting to his knees finally. His joints protested, sore and creaking. It was hard to tell what was dirt and what wasn't, Hel's red soil mixing with both human and demonic blood.

It didn't really matter. He was caked in both.

"I'll try to be quieter next time," Dean muttered. The crest of the hill was near, and he knew what waited for him just beyond it. "Now go away."

Castiel frowned, black wings swirling the smoke.

"No," he said simply, leaning down to press two fingers against Dean's sweaty forehead.

The battlefield disappeared. Water filled the chasms grenades had left, swept away the corpses and blood. The rough dirt beneath Dean shifted to sun warmed slats of wood, the sky fading from red to bright blue.

Dean slowly got to his feet, recognizing the quiet lake stretched in front of him, the old pier he could feel shift beneath his now bare feet.

"What the," he turned slowly, taking in the crisp grass, the trees that slowly swayed in the cool breeze. The air was warm against his skin, whispering to him of lazy summers spent fishing. Two small figures sat at the end of the pier, two boys with homemade fishing rods that laughed and pushed at each other.

Castiel materialized at his side, hands at his back and wings folded. "This is yours, Dean."

Dean watched the boys, heart clenching. "I used to take Sammy here every summer. Dad was working and Mom…" he blinked, swallowing as child-Sam whooped something, reeling his line in. "Sam loved it here."

Castiel was watching him, blue eyes bright. "As did you. "

"This is a  _dream,_ " he ground, turning away from the boys. "And I don't dream about this. Not anymore. I don't know what this is, but take me  _back._  Back to…back to…"

_Take me back to Hel._

Castiel's wings shimmered in the sun, hidden flashes of greens and blues that Dean always wanted to chase with his fingers. Child-like laughter rode the breeze, carefree and young.

"Hel is painful to you," Castiel said quietly, blue eyes serious. "You carry the scar of it within you, death and sorrow. Why would you wish to experience them night after night?"

Dean wanted to lash out. What was the stupid angel even  _doing_ here? This was  _his_  head,  _his_  dreams. No one else was supposed to  _see_ , it was his burden to bear, his own sanctuary of sin and past mistakes.

But there was no pity in the angel's face. No judgment. Castiel stood quietly but proudly, pale skin glowing in the sunlight. He seemed…he seemed so  _real._

Dean sighed, watching the boys, unable to hold the angel's gaze with his own. "Because it's all I have left, Cas. Those,  _memories,_ are all I have left."

Dean could hear himself shouting happily, Sam squealing as he hooked his first big fish. What he wouldn't give to join them, to pretend even if just for a little while, that life was that simple and carefree.

Castiel was still studying him, and Dean shrugged sullenly, the words dragged from him. "Of him. It's all I have left of him _._ "

Even in his dream, Dean wore his ID tags. Castiel reached out to touch them, and this time Dean didn't stop him, watching the angel's face as Castiel's fingers traced the metal respectfully.

"You speak of your father," he said quietly. "John Winchester."

The water lapped up against the pier, the trees sighing and grass shifting as the two boys continued their fishing, unaware.

Dean nodded, chest tight. "Yeah."

Castiel dropped his hand, wings spreading behind him. The sun glinted off the raven black feathers. "I would very much like to see him." Those powerful wings swept forward to caress his arms gently. "If you would allow me."

"You, you want to see him?" Dean's chest tightened as Castiel nodded slowly.

The angel held out his hand, palm up. "I will be with you, Dean. You need not be afraid."

It was just a dream. This Cas wasn't real. What did he have to lose?

Dean slowly took Castiel's hand in his, a shiver shooting along his spine as the angel's fingers curled against his.

"Okay," he swallowed, voice barely a whisper. "Okay, Cas."

Two fingers were once again pressed against forehead, and the pier disappeared.

 

* * *

 

It was like watching a movie; a worn tape he had watched time and time again, analyzing every action, every second. Rewinding and fast forwarding again and again, just to see if the ending would ever change.

It never did.

"Dad," Dean felt like he was far away, a stranger watching through his own eyes as he cradled his dying father in his arms. Pain lanced up his side but it was muffled, far away and unimportant. "Dad, I'm here, hold on."

John looked up at him, throat crimson and gaping. Everything was red, dripping and slick, his fingers slipping in it as he tugged his father into his lap. John was speaking, struggling to breathe but no words came from his mouth. His lips formed letters, names, but in his panic, Dean couldn't make it out.

Dad was dying and it was  _all his fault._

With a gurgling sigh that stretched the ragged gash across his throat, John cupped Dean's cheek. His eyes were beginning to glaze over, the light in them dimming, and Dean clutched his father desperately.

"Dad no,  _please_ , just hold on, I'll get help-"

John mouthed something at him, smiling as his lungs finally rattled for the last time, chest falling still. The hand at Dean's cheek slackened, heavy and lifeless and Dean screamed at him, mouth stretched wide.

John had uttered his last words and Dean was too much a failure to understand them.

 

* * *

 

Dean watched himself crouch over the dead body of his father. It was weird, watching himself, and he watched as other-Dean shook with grief, rocking back and forth as wounded animal-like cries were ripped from his lungs.

Castiel was solemn by his side, head bowed in respect and hands clasped.

"You were brave," he said quietly. "Strong."

"I let him die," Dean said bluntly, still watching himself. "If I hadn't run off, he wouldn't have followed. If I had just followed orders-"

"You both would have been killed regardless," Castiel interrupted him, wings jerking. "He saved you, Dean. He loved you."

"Yeah? How would  _you_  know?"

The words were more scathing than he intended, and Castiel's wings pulled in closer to him, sad.

"I know," he said quietly. "I know."

Dean turned away, finding it too difficult to watch grieving other-Dean. Hel stretched in front of him, a never-ending battlefield of blood and horror.

"I never told Sam that," he admitted hollowly. "I just said Dad died in the field and left it at that. Not that he bled out in my arms. That…that it was all my fault."

Castiel joined him, gazing out across the sulfuric landscape. Hel's sun hung in the sky above them, shimmering and orange. Dean chuckled humorlessly to himself.

"I was never good enough. I let down everyone _._  So of course they leave, of course they do. Why shouldn't they?"

He turned to Castiel then, irrationally angry to find the angel's eyes wet. This was Dean's horror, his weakness and the angel was feeling  _sorry_ for him? Dean shoved at Castiel's shoulder, scowling.

"Don't pretend to feel sorry for me Cas. I deserved this. Mom left. Sam left and then Dad. They all knew that I'm  _broken_  and I just ruin everything, it's just-"

The sudden slap sent him reeling, cheek stinging. Dean gaped in surprise at the glowering angel, wordless and trembling. Castiel reached for him, fingers firm against his jaw. Behind the angel, his dark wings rose to arch high above his head like a vengeful God of old, powerful and suddenly so alien. Dean struggled to pull away but Castiel's eyes flashed warningly.

" _Dean Winchester_ ," the angel's voice rumbled like thunder, Hel quaking beneath their feet. "You are an exceptional human being and your father knew that. He gave his life so that you could live."

Castiel shook Dean's chin as if he were a naughty puppy, feathers shivering. "There is no greater act of sacrifice and love than that. You are loved.  _Always_."

Dean was shaking as he finally shoved the angel away, hands balled into fists. Anger he could deal with. Pity too. But…but  _acceptance?_ Was he so pathetic that he would  _dream up_ an angel to say things to make himself feel better?

"You say that like you know!" his voice was trembling and unsure, even to his ears. "You don't know me, Cas! I'm a killer. That's what I  _do_. The  _only_ thing I'm good at. I'm, I'm a tool, Cas. That's all I've ever been."

Castiel grabbed him again, refusing to let him duck and run, fingers hard where they pressed against the back of his head. Dean was pulled forward, and he breathed out shakily, trembling and afraid. But the angel didn't do anything to him, merely rested his forehead against Dean's. They stood like that for a moment, Dean tense and nervous and hopelessly confused. Slowly, Castiel's wings dropped, reaching forward to wrap around them both. Dean was enveloped by a warm heat, soft and reassuring.

"Dean, listen to me."

Feathers trailed along his arms, and some of the tension in his limbs eased. So what if this was a product of his screwed up mind? He was safe here.

"I do not see a killer when I look at you," Castiel murmured, pressing a hand against Dean's chest, swallowing as the heart beneath his slim fingers thumped. "I see a man. You carry a burden of darkness inside you, but it only defines your light. You have a selfless and beautiful soul, Dean Winchester."

Dean dimly realized his hands were clutching at the angel's arms, needy and punishing. Castiel didn't seem to notice, pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. The angel's eyes were clear and honest.

"You are not broken. You are deserving of love, Dean."

Hands framed his face, fingertips brushing against his slick cheekbones.  _I'm crying,_  Dean realized, feeling embarrassed.  _Oh god, I'm actually crying. Dream crying, what the fuck._ Castiel murmured words to him, comforting and warm as his wings pressed in around them.

Dean shuddered as the angel leaned in close, flinching at the words whispered against his cheeks, words he didn't fully understand. Warm dry lips ghosted over his eyelids, tracing the contours of his face and neck. Uncaring of what he must look like, Dean's clutched Castiel back, hands desperate where they dug into the feathered joints of the angel's wings, fingers burrowing into soft down.

" _Ol'mozod,_ " Castiel breathed against him, and Dean didn't think, couldn't, just leant forward to kiss the angel desperately, to wantonly lay claim to those endearments and the strange alien creature who uttered them.

 

* * *

 

" _Dean_!"

Dean snapped awake, eyes wide and heart pounding. Sam loomed over him, huge grin in place and eyes shining.

"Dean you're not gonna believe it!" his brother gushed, pulling away to resume his flailing around the room. It took Dean a moment of groggy staring to realize Sam was  _packing._  "Michael has allowed Bobby to bring a team back into the tribe. That includes  _me!_ "

Dean rubbed his eyes, heart slowly beginning to resume a normal pace as he sat up. Blurry images still played in his mind as he blinked sleep from his eyes.

Did he…had he  _kissed_ Cas?

Dean froze. "What the hell?"

Sam paused his mad scrambling, turning to roll his eyes.

"You are so not a morning person," Sam shook his head impatiently. "Gabriel is here in the lab. Bobby's packing up some gear and then we're  _all_ heading to the home tree."

Dean threw the covers away from him, swinging his legs over the mattress. The floor was cold against his bare feet, jarring the dull ache in his joints from Alistair -

 _Oh no. No, no, no._ Dean willed his stomach to calm, concentrating on his brother as Sam babbled. His vision swam for a moment, but a few deep breaths and he managed to control it. His brain caught up with him, interpreting what Sam had been saying.

_Get it together, Winchester._

Sam sniffed, eyes glistening, and for a moment Dean was genuinely worried the giant girl might cry.

"I just, I have to be dreaming," Sam took a deep breath. "This is  _awesome!_ "

Phantom fingers ghosted across Dean's cheek as Sam turned away, and Dean absently reached up to touch his face, convinced he would feel fingers against his. He could still feel lips against his own, the gentle flick of a tongue.

Oh god.  _Dream Cas._ Like he didn't have enough troubles, he had to go and have inappropriate dreams about certain angels. But…it was just a dream right?

Dreams didn't  _mean_  anything.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

The trip out to the home tree was a blur. Sam was a babbling mess, over excited and wildly gesturing. Dean sat in a stupor for most of the journey, giving Sam a nod or grunt of agreement occasionally when he was prompted. It was only when they landed and had picked their way through the forest that Dean began to relax.

As they approached the tribe, some of the young ones flocked towards them, squealing at the prospect of newcomers.

Some of the older ones recognized Bobby and flocked around him, chattering happily. Bobby replied in Enochian, eyes crinkled with joy. The youngest fledglings of the group weren't as interested in the scientist, instead amassing around Sam, staring up at him in awe. A few brave souls latched onto his long legs, giggling as he bent down to speak to them.

Back in the presence of many, watching his brother finally live out his dream, Dean could actually forget about Alistair. He could forget about demons, or dream angels, and pretend for a little while that everything was as rosy as Sam saw it, that everything would work out okay.

But there was a reason Dean was here, and he couldn't hide from it forever. After using his stilted Enochian to ask where Castiel was, a serious looking female angel pointed Dean towards the field of Levithmong, flicking her wing rudely as he passed.

His boots scuffed the worn dirt path, and Dean sullenly kicked at a small clump of grass, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets as he hunched his shoulders forward. A stiff knot of nerves bunched in his belly, his heart giving a worried thump as he rounded the tree and the Levithmong field stretched in front of him.

Castiel was there, wings slack and relaxed at his back as he patted the beasts around him. The Levithmong had gathered close to him, and the angel was talking to them, round syllables that hummed through the cool morning air. The creatures responded with contented rumbles of their own, a large male bumping his ridged forehead against Castiel's shoulder.

The damp grass dragged against the rough fabric of his jeans as Dean made his way towards the angel, his steps heavy. He felt unexplainably nervous. His dream from the night before was fuzzy now, unreal. But he could still remember what had happened. It was one thing to dream of Hel. Fuck, he'd been doing that longer than he could recall, but dreaming of  _kissing_ a dude?  _An alien_ at that?

Just how messed up  _was_  he really?

Castiel heard him approach and turned, blue eyes bright in the morning sun as he recognized the human. "Dean. You came."

The weight pressing on his shoulders eased, and Dean smiled back. He could do this. If he could handle Hel, he could handle…whatever this was.

"Hey, Cas."

The angel's mouth curled at the name, eyes affectionate. Dean looked away, stumbling slightly as a Levithmong immediately sidled up to him, bumping his arm with its broad head. "We riding again today? Cause I gotta tell you dude, I'm still walking funny from yesterday."

His stomach gave a lurch at his choice of words, and Dean cringed inside. He shoved at the over-enthusiastic Levithmong currently leaning up against him, but the beast didn't budge.

Castiel watched his efforts with a smile. "No. I thought we would practice sparring today. It is important you learn how to fight according to our ways."

Dean arched an eyebrow, giving in and allowing the Levithmong to nuzzle up against him. "You mean no embarrassing myself today? Sam will be  _so_  disappointed."

To his shock, Castiel didn't look surprised at the mention of Sam. The angel ducked his head, concentrating on the creatures milling around them. "If he so desires, I'm sure your embarrassment can be arranged."

"Cas, you dog!" Dean grinned, nervousness disappearing. "You knew Sam was coming? How?"

Castiel shrugged, but Dean could see the smile the angel was trying to hide. "I may have,  _mentioned_ something to Michael about allowing certain humans back into the clan."

With a happy laugh, Dean reached out to clap the angel on the shoulder without thinking. The skin beneath his fingers was warm, and Dean hurriedly dropped his hand as he realized what he had done. Castiel didn't seem to mind, smiling uncertainly at him as Dean pulled away.

Dean punched him lightly on the arm in a much manlier manner. "You're awesome. The kid nearly died from a geekasm this morning. You have  _no_  idea what this means to him."

The smile immediately left Castiel's face, his dark brows drawn together as he looked at Dean with concern.

"Died?" he echoed. "Is he well? It was not my intention to cause any harm."

Dean couldn't help it. The laughter forced from him, dragged from his lungs in heaving gasps. Castiel's wings fluffed with shock, and Dean bent over double in an attempt to get ahold of himself. But one glance towards Castiel and his worried, puffed crow impression, would set him off again, laughs wrung once again from Dean's aching chest. Dean flailed helplessly, gasping as he wiped his eyes.

"Never change, Cas," he wheezed, shaking his head.

 

* * *

 

Sam really couldn't believe he was here.  _Really_ here, not just staring longingly at holos or pictures in books. Here with the angels, not just staring up at the night sky and squinting at stars.

Castiel's wings were swept back, keeping him balanced as he easily dodged Dean's lunge as the two sparred in the bright midday sun. They both wielded wooden spears, blunt at both ends for safety. Castiel spun on his feet, wings moving with the line of his body and allowing him to move much more smoothly than Dean seemed to. The sunlight caught the various hues of dark blue and greens hidden amongst the black, and Sam couldn't help but gawk. It was astounding how much variance there was between angels and their wings. Castiel definitely stuck out from the other usual browns and crèmes; none of his siblings seemed to boast the same coloration.

Perhaps it wasn't genetic? Maybe more environmental, like the effects of temperature or diet?

Hunched over his lap in the shade, Sam scribbled down page after page of notes. Now and then, he'd sketch a lopsided drawing he then carefully labeled with tiny lettering. Bobby was busy establishing himself back within the tribe with Michael and Raphael, leaving Sam to his own research.

Or  _fan-girling_  as Dean kept calling it. He was probably right too.

Sam had settled down under a small shrub-like plant that still managed to tower over him; its leaves trailing curiously along his arms as he sat propped against the springy trunk. Back on the Citadel, when Sam had been studying, there had been a large public garden with tropical plants. The air always smelt sweet with honeysuckle, warm and humid as it pressed against his skin. Sam had taken Jess there on one of their first dates, tripping over the scientific names of each plant as she had laughed. Occasionally, he had taken his text books with him there to study. Sitting on the hard wooden bench nestled beneath an ancient palm, he could almost pretend he was really  _on_ Oadriax. That he was really listening to the calls of a lone Rageba, or the mating hum of a Peleryptix. Not stuck on Earth.

All of his adult life he'd been dreaming of this moment, and now it was  _really happening_.

Oadriax was nothing like the Citadel garden. Oadriax was a wild oasis of possibilities and life, the culmination of Sam's life work and…and…he didn't even know where to  _start_.

Should he document behavior or wing spans? Culture? Language?

A sharp crack interrupted Sam's inner debate, and Dean hollered out in the field, nursing his now bruised knuckles. Castiel flapped forward worriedly, and with an evil grin, Dean took the opportunity to hit out at the angel's legs, causing Castiel to go tumbling. A burst of laughter to Sam's right made the decision for him, and Sam smiled to himself as he began furiously sketching.

Beneath his pencil, something came to life. He was by no means a great artist, but Sam had prided himself on being able to sketch relatively well. Slowly two broad wings took shape, the feathers slightly tattered and worn in places, a tell-tale indicator that it was a mature angel who had seen a few seasons. Below that, his pencil followed the smooth curve of a shoulder, a pair of strong shoulders tapering down to a sturdy waist. The long column of a neck, the flick of a jaw and chin.

Now, if only he could get the eyes right, laughing and g-

"Hey good-looking, come here often?"

Sam squawked in alarm, notebook pages crinkling as he scrambled to cover his drawing. His face felt on fire as he recognized the angel looking down at him with the exact same eyes he had been trying to draw.

"I uh, Gabriel! I…I was just-"

Gabriel grinned down at him, apparently deciding Sam was more interesting to pester than the two sparring. "I'm just messing with ya, kid. Bobby wizened up to my teasing _years_  ago. I've been searching for greener pastures ever since."

Gabriel flopped down beside him, wings stretching happily and rustling the leaves.

"And right now, you're my greener pasture. Congrats!"

Sam hurriedly tucked his notebook away into his side satchel. Gabriel sighed happily beside him, legs folded serenely beneath him. He looked so normal, so  _human,_ save for the feathery appendages.

_And man, what appendages._

Sam knew from his studies that the wings were firmly fused to the scapula, could even see where the soft feathers that lent the Ne'gassagen their camouflage, ended, and human skin began. It baffled scientists as to  _why_ they had feathers in the first place, and theories were still running a bit wild. Some angels had wings build for speed, others for fighting; each angel seemed equipped for a different role in the tribe.

And Gabriel's…Sam's hands itched to reach out and touch them. They were broad, with blunt wide feathers built for silence. They reminded Sam of an owl, flecked with brown and white, less defined and streamlined than Castiel's. Probably helped explain why the angel kept sneaking onto the base, with a silent glide, no-one would hear him.

Another gaggle of young angels scurried by, giggling.  _Fledglings_ they called them back in the Citadel, the term written down in old musty books. Sam watched them with a smile, the heat slowly leaving his face. Their tiny wings flapped in excitement as they gawked over towards Sam, murmuring to each other with hushed voices. Sam found his eyes straining to pick out a little fledgling in the crowd, a laughing child with tawny wings and mischievous eyes.

"So, which one's yours?" Sam blurted, slamming his mouth shut in mortification as his brain caught up with his mouth.

Goddammit, he waited over a decade to get here and then immediately turns into a little schoolgirl first chance he gets. They must think he's such an  _idiot-_

Gabriel chuckled, snapping Sam back to the present.

"None. I never really got a chance."

Sam turned at that, surprised. His embarrassment leeched away, replaced by scholarly curiosity. Gabriel was an elder baltoh, he would have been one of the first to mate according to clan culture. "You never had a mate?"

"Well now I never said  _that,_ " Gabriel winked at him. "I did, once upon a time. Kali left me for someone else. Something about me never taking things seriously."

Sam smiled. "Sounds like you."

He could have slapped himself.

_That's it. I'm digging a hole and staying there forever. Here lies Sam and his stupid big mouth, killed by enraged angels because he couldn't stop insulting the baltoh-_

Gabriel merely laughed, eyes twinkling with mirth and Sam relaxed slightly.

"And what would you know about me, Sammy-boy?"

There was a playful challenge there, Gabriel's blunt flight feathers just shy of brushing against Sam's back.

"Enough," Sam smiled uncertainly. "I mean, from what I've studied."

Gabriel looked pleased, chin hitched a little higher and wings flexing. "You mean you read books about me? Good taste, Sam, good taste."

Sam ducked his head, puffing at the hair that fell into his eyes. "I read a lot about you guys," he admitted. "I thought…I thought you mated for life."

Gabriel didn't seem to mind his curiosity. The angel shrugged, rustling the foliage around them. "Only if you bond. Me and Kali, we were all fire but no kindling. Don't regret it though. That girl knew how to  _move._ "

He winked, waggling his eyebrows and making Sam laugh. "Was like she had hands  _everywhere_."

Another shout signaled Dean had lost the spar, Castiel's voice triumphant. Gabriel ignored them, eyeing Sam up and down as he tapped his cheek thoughtfully.

"Now let's see, I'm thinking a blonde. Cute. A girly girl that could still kick your ass if you put a toe outta line."

Seemed Sam had met his match when it came to curiosity. He chuckled, shaking his head. "That's about right."

"And?" Gabriel leaned into him, nudging him with an elbow. "Come on, spill the juicy details."

"And that's all I'm telling you," Sam gave the angel a friendly shove, smiling. "Nosy."

Dean had flung away his spear, electing for trying to rough house with Castiel. Sam had been the recipient of the patented 'Dean Winchester lunge' too many times to count. It had never worked with Sam, and it seemed to fail just as spectacularly with Castiel, the smaller angel pinning Dean easily with a flap of wings.

"You know, Dean is fitting in pretty well," Sam remarked, chuckling as he watched Castiel help Dean up with a friendly hand, apparently the match over. Not to be outdone though, Dean lunged for the angel's waist, dragging him down to the ground in a mess of feathers and a high pitched yelp of surprise. Gabriel shot Sam a look as the two rolled around like kids, shouting and laughing.

"Considering," Sam amended.

Gabriel snorted, tilting his chin away from the two idiots in the field, towards the trees. "I think Uriel would disagree with you there."

Sam glanced over to see a large male angel sullenly sitting beneath a tree. He was thickly built with dark skin, all muscle and unusually clean shaven. His wings were twitching sporadically, brown feathers fluffed with anger. Gabriel made a rude sound.

"Honestly I have no idea what Michael was thinking setting Castiel up with  _that_ one. Uriel is such a stick in the mud."

_Uriel?_

Sam squinted towards the angel, eyes trailing over his clothing. Judging from the amount of beads and bones woven into his jewelry, the guy was a powerful warrior. But it was the leather band around his neck that caught Sam's attention. At its center, resting along the angel's sternum was a wicked looking tooth.

Sam leaned towards Gabriel. "Is that a  _Hoath_ necklace?"

"Yeah," Gabriel rotated his shoulder, joint clicking. "Castiel won't wear his, even though Uriel killed the damn Vniglag for him as per tradition. I think he's holding out hope that Uriel will just lose interest. Which 'aint happening."

Sam shook his head. "I can see why, dude is built like a linebacker. He could probably snap  _me_ in half if he wanted."

Gabriel smiled, honest and wide. "I'm glad you're here, Sam."

Taken aback by the sudden change of conversation, Sam blushed, babbling something as he looked away. Gabriel merely laughed, getting to his feet. Before Sam could worry about having offended the angel, Gabriel's fingers grabbed his arm, hauling the human up.

"Don't let your brother have  _all_ the fun while you sit here and scribble away," Gabriel said. "This is your first time on an alien planet isn't it?"

Sam rubbed his arm nervously, feeling huge and awkward next to the petite angel. "Uh, yeah."

Gabriel made a pleased sound. "I wanna show you something. Do you trust me?"

Sam stared down at him, swallowing hard. "For some weird reason that I'll probably regret, sure. I trust you."

The smile the angel gave him was blinding. "Alrighty then! You might want to hang on."

Sam frowned in confusion. "Hang on to wh- _GABRIEL_!"

Before Sam knew what was happening, Gabriel darted around him. The angel was practically half his size, small in comparison, but he lifted Sam effortlessly, arms tight under the human's armpits and cinched across his chest. Sam resisted the urge to struggle as with a flap, Gabriel lifted them both upwards. Sam gawked in horror as the ground rapidly disappeared beneath his dangling feet, Dean and Castiel becoming smaller with each flap.

Gabriel swung them towards the home tree, and Sam finally stopped staring down at the ground. Each down stroke of Gabriel's wings caused a sudden flux of air that whipped Sam's overly long hair everywhere, but Sam didn't care. He was  _flying._  Actually, really,  _flying._

Trusting Gabriel to not suddenly drop him, Sam spread his arms wide—laughing as Gabriel banked the same direction he angled his arms. They climbed higher, towards the upper branches of the home tree, and Sam could see angels moving, cleaning their nests in preparation for another day. Giddily, he waved as a few youngsters spotted him, the youngsters shrieking happily to each other. A few mothers glanced towards the strange flying duo, rolling their eyes as Gabriel called out a friendly greeting.

The nests became fewer, the branches thinner as they continued up. Finally, Gabriel moved in, setting Sam down along one of the sturdier branches. They were at the top of the tree, and Sam could only stare out with awe at the endless view in front of him.

Oadriax stretched below, a forest of trees and an endless beautiful blue sky. The twin suns were high above them, bright and warm. A quick glance down confirmed the dizzying height, and for a moment, Sam reeled. A sudden hand on his elbow steadied him, and Sam shot a thankful smile at Gabriel as he came to stand beside him.

The two stood side by side, gazing out at the landscape. Sam breathed deeply, relishing the tropical scents and clean air.

"It's beautiful," he said quietly. Gabriel shifted beside him, wings folded serenely against his back. His eyes were half closed, merely slits of gold as he blissfully absorbed the sun that filtered through the leaves.

"Thought you'd like it," he murmured smugly. "We don't come up here very often, but when we do, it's pretty darn awesome."

Sam could see angels in the trees a little further away, their wings flashing in the light as they gathered fruit and searched for bird nests. Angels were omnivores, skilled hunters and gatherers, much like humanity had once been. Sam spared a sad thought for his notebook, left far below on the ground.

A blip against the otherwise perfect sky drew his attention, and Sam squinted against the bright suns, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. Just a dark smudge that seemed to grow bigger as he watched.

"What's that?"

Gabriel opened his eyes to look where Sam pointed, and stiffened. A high pitched shrill echoed from the gathering angels in the adjacent trees; an alarm call.

"Get down!" Gabriel hissed, pressing a firm hand into the small of Sam's back. They both dropped into a crouch, watching the dark shape advance. The angels gathering food in the trees likewise froze, tucking their wings close to them as they ducked into the shadows of the tree.

Gabriel pressed in close to Sam's side, wings arching around them both as his arm slid around Sam's waist. The angel was tense, poised for flight, and Sam held his breath as he watched the dark shape draw closer.

It was massive creature with a huge wingspan, a true titan of the skies. Its leathery wings were bat like, thin grey skin stretched between long bony fingers. Its body was reptilian, and despite the distance, Sam could see the dark red plating along its belly and back, the curved wicked talons. It reminded him of the ancient pictures of dragons from human history, leviathans of the old world that burnt everything to ash.

The creature screeched into the sky and Sam could feel the vibrations in his chest.

"Teloch," Gabriel murmured, eyes sharp where they watched the creature. "A critter you don't want to mess with. If it comes this way we'll have to get out of here."

To their relief, the shape banked right, away from them and further into the distance, leathery wings massive pistons that cleaved through the air. Gabriel relaxed, slowly releasing Sam.

Sam breathed out slowly, giving himself a shake. "You haven't tried to tame that one I take it."

Gabriel snorted, wings still twitching with adrenaline. "I think my great grandfather tried and lost a wing.  _Not_  something you should do on a whim."

He held out his hand, and Sam took it without thinking. "Story goes that the one who can tame the teloch is the chosen one. An angel to bring the clan together during times of war, or something like that."

Sam watched the teloch disappear into the distance. "Has it ever actually happened?"

"No," Gabriel snorted. "It's just an old wives tale. A bedtime story for the kids."

The angel smiled, winking as he tugged Sam back over to the edge of the branch. "But enough about that. Let's get down to ground level before your big sister worries."

 

* * *

 

Dean bent over, hands braced on his thighs as he stared at the ground, panting. Sweat ran in torrents down his back and down the sides of his face, stinging his eyes.

"I, we…gotta stop," he managed to gasp. "I'm…spent."

Castiel leant against his reclaimed staff, arching an eyebrow. He looked smug, the bastard.

"Very well. I accept victory graciously," the angel flopped down onto the grass, smiling tiredly. "Though I do admit, it was difficult to win."

Finally catching his breath, Dean sank down to the grass as well, chuckling. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better."

He glanced towards the shade. Sam had settled himself in there earlier, geekily jotting down notes while Bobby did his thing somewhere else. Seemed the kid had gotten bored of that, and now stood talking to Gabriel, gesturing with his hands. They made an odd pair, Sam so tall and looming, Gabriel small and laughing. The angel was smiling, answering Sam's questions happily, and Dean struggled to his knees, eyeing the two shrewdly.

"It worry you how well those two get on?" he asked suspiciously.

Something soft buffeted his head, and Dean fell forward onto his hands. Twisting, he saw Castiel innocently looking up at the sky, almost missing the sudden jerk of one wing folding back.

"Oh, you did  _not_ just bitch slap me with your wing," Dean growled playfully, scrambling to his feet. "It is  _on_."

Castiel maintained his innocent gaze, but he was already beginning to back up, wings jerking with glee. "I have no idea what you are referring to. You must be mistaken."

Dean lunged forward, but Castiel darted out of reach. Dean spun on his heel, a snarky retort on his tongue, but the words died in his throat as he recognized the figure that gracefully landed beside them. Castiel seized up, his entire demeanor changing to one of solemn respect. He turned, keeping his head down as his wings dropped to the ground, feathers spread.

"Lucifer," he murmured. "Dorphal mirc ol lit nazarth."

The second eldest baltoh glared down at his youngest brother, lips curled in a sneer. "Castiel. I see you are taking your duties with the  _toltorg_ seriously."

Dean bristled, but knew better than to get involved. Lucifer was a scary bastard, but Cas could handle himself.

"Of course,  _esiasch_ ,"Castiel said, eyes still glued to Lucifer's feet. "Dean is learning mu-"

In a flash, Lucifer hauled Castiel to his feet, fingers twisting in his dark feathers. Dean took a step forward, but Castiel shook his head slightly, motioning with his fingers for Dean to stay put.

Lucifer watched their silent exchange. "So I can see," he drawled, fingers digging into Castiel's wings. "How,  _delightful._ "

The younger angel winced, but remained still. "I understand you do not think them worthy Lucifer, but Dean has-"

The sudden sharp slap of a fist against flesh made Dean's stomach churn, unexpected and violent. Castiel's head snapped back at the blow, and Dean had barely made it one step before Lucifer struck the young angel again.

" _Hey!_ "

Lucifer let his brother go at Dean's voice, and Castiel crumpled to the ground. Dean hurried to his side but was pushed back; Castiel warning him away.

"I did not ask your  _opinion_ , brother," Lucifer said coolly, eyes flat and emotionless. "Remember your place."

Dean was horrified to see blood glisten on the grass. Castiel was crouched down low like a kicked dog, lip split and cheek swelling red. The feathers of one wing were twisted where Lucifer had grabbed him, and the angel moaned lowly as Lucifer reached down to grab the other.

"Did you hear me?"

Dean recognized the stance of Lucifer's foot, a kick that would probably crack a rib or two. His legs felt too heavy, his body too slow as Dean he scrambled forward, grabbing for Castiel's arm.

But Lucifer suddenly let go, screeching as he was yanked back. Castiel fell backwards into Dean's outstretched arms, trembling as Lucifer thrashed against his assailant, screaming curses.

Gabriel hung onto the base of Lucifer's wings, twisting mercilessly. His usual playful demeanor was gone, his face a mask of cold fury as his golden eyes blazed.

"Nidali!" he snarled, shaking Lucifer hard. Gabriel's Enochian was rough and guttural, barely understandable as his voice shook with anger. "Bagle g'chis-ge ol? Esiach gemeganza blans iadpil!"

( _No! How could you? As brothers we protect him!)_

He shoved Lucifer away and several loose grey feathers floated to the ground. The blonde turned to hiss, feathers puffing with rage. Gabriel stood his ground, wings matching Lucifer's in volume and size. It was a cat-fight, Dean dimly realized, a show of who could out puff the other.

Despite Gabriel being smaller and younger than Lucifer, it was, surprisingly, the older baltoh that backed down. Lucifer yielded to Gabriel with a series of sullen wing postures.

That didn't mean he was done, however.

"Nostoah oi ollor iehusoz," Lucifer spat, smoothing his feathers back into place. "Butmon, aspt nidali-vpaah. Imuamar marbby baltan!"

( _It is a mercy. He opened his mouth to me before the no-wings. He must conform to our laws.)_

That seemed to enrage Gabriel further. The angel lunged towards Lucifer, and Lucifer backed up, wings vibrating with fury as he kept Gabriel at bay with his hands.

"Iehusoz?" Gabriel snarled, lip curled and teeth flashing as he struggled against Lucifer's grip. "Oiad oi nanaeel esiach!"

( _Mercy? He is our brother!)_

Lucifer shoved him away, making a show of patting himself down as if uncaring of the whole situation.

"No," he sneered, in English, glancing back towards Castiel's bowed head. "A freak. An  _abomination_."

Dean could only stand there, useless and staring as Lucifer took off, Gabriel shrieking something after him in Enochian. Castiel slowly pushed away from Dean, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and Gabriel was at his side immediately, reaching out to touch him worriedly.

"Let me see, did he-"

Castiel jerked away from his brother, eyes flashing. "I do not need your assistance. I can fight my own battles."

Gabriel's hands fell to his sides, but his eyes were worried, wings anxious and twitching. "I'm sorry. I just can't let him-"

Dean took a step back as Castiel growled, dark wings curling around himself protectively. "Leave me  _alone_ , Gabriel!"

Dean could only watch helplessly as Castiel stormed away from them, slipping into the tree line with a beat of his wings. Gabriel stared after his brother forlornly, wings drooping.

"He just needs some time," he said quietly, wringing his hands as his speckled wings fretted. "He'll be ok."

"Dude," Dean looked over at the angel, finally blinking out of his stupor. "What the actual  _fuck_?"

Sam was jogging over, and Gabriel looked over at Dean with a sigh. "It's an angel thing. Castiel is at the bottom of the food chain around here. Lucifer likes to remind him."

"But he's one of you!" Dean protested, irrationally angry on Castiel's behalf. "Baltoh right? That's gotta mean something!"

"Yeah," Gabriel muttered, eyes flashing as he found another angel to take his anger out on. "Fat lot of good that does him."

Uriel was stalking towards where Castiel had disappeared into the forest. Gabriel tracked him for a moment, before growling to himself in Enochian. He took off in a swirl of feathers, descending on Uriel as Dean stared after him. It wasn't long before they were arguing, Gabriel pushing Uriel away from the spot where Castiel had disappeared.

Sam came to a halt beside Dean, reaching out to touch his elbow. "Hey, you ok? Angel spats can get pretty nasty,  _fast_."

"Yeah I'm alright," Dean winced as Gabriel whacked Uriel with one wing, the larger angel retaliating by shoving back, hard. "What the hell are they screeching about?"

Sam frowned, leaning forward to listen. "Uriel is mad because he thinks Lucifer was right to demand respect from Castiel. Gabriel is calling him-" he smiled slightly, swallowing a chuckle. "Some really bad names."

Dean snorted, crossing his arms. "Good."

Sam listened a while longer, then with a sigh, took a step back. "It's an old dispute apparently. Uriel is going on about how Castiel is his property so he has to take care of him, and Gabriel is yelling about family and brothers. We should probably stay out of it."

Dean glanced towards the forest. He recognized the trail Castiel had taken, knew where the angel was probably headed.

_Cas is in there, hurt and bleeding._

He uncrossed his arms to squeeze Sam's arm affectionately. "Keep the hounds off my tail okay?"

Sam frowned after him as Dean began to jog away, towards the forest.

"Where are you going?" his little brother called after him worriedly.

Dean smiled humorlessly. "To pay back a bit of the debt I owe."

 

* * *

 

It was surprisingly easy to find Castiel. The angel hadn't gone far, slumping down in a small thicket of flowers behind a thick bush. He was on his knees, head bowed and wings shivering.

"Hey," Dean paused just outside the bush, uncertain if he should enter or not. "Can I, uh, can I come in?"

Castiel nodded his head tightly, and Dean shoved the leaves aside to clamber inside the thicket. Dean winced as he noticed Castiel's swollen cheek, the streak of blood smudged beneath his lip. Castiel avoided his eyes, idly picking at a flower as the human shifted to make himself comfortable on the long, thick grass.

They sat in companionable silence, the forest buzzing around them. Dean picked at a stray thread along the seam of his jeans, trying to choose his words carefully.

"You ok?"

Seemed the best he could come up with.  _A +, Winchester. Really top notch._

Castiel sighed unhappily. "Yes. I…apologize that you had to witness that."

"Nah, forget it," Dean shrugged. "Your brother's a douche. No offence."

Castiel smiled slightly, wiping his chin and grimacing at the blood there. Where Lucifer had grabbed his wing, the feathers were still twisted, some tugged out of place. Without thinking, Dean leant forward, hand outstretched to smooth them down. At the first brush of his fingers, Castiel jerked away, eyes wide.

"Oh, oh man, I'm sorry," Dean blurted, cursing himself. "I'm not supposed to touch you or something right? I'm sorry, dude, just forget it."

"No," Castiel said forcibly, and Dean paused, hand still half outstretched. "My body is my own. I do not mind. Please, continue."

Slowly, Dean reached back, touching one ruffled feather softly. Castiel was a statue, sitting perfectly still, and emboldened, Dean dragged his fingers along the small feathers. Slowly the twisted ones began to lay flat, their loose cousins coming free.

It was as soft as he had imagined, and Dean stroked his palm along a flight feather, testing the firm sleekness. Unable to resist, he leant in, pressing his face close and inhaling the crisp powder scent of the feathers. Castiel shuddered slightly, before falling still again, and Dean pulled back, suddenly self-conscious.

"You must think I look really weird, huh?" he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "No wings and all."

Castiel smiled over at him. "No. I…I think you are very handsome."

His face grew hot, and Dean looked away, clearing his throat. Trust Cas to say something to make him completely flustered.

"I uh…thanks, Cas."

The two lapsed into an awkward silence, sitting in the grasses as the birds chirped overhead. A blue furred mouse scampered between the ferns, scattering dirt in its wake as it burrowed for a tasty meal. In the canopy, a family of green skinned lizards basked along the sun warmed bark of a tree, kaleidoscope eyes swiveling.

Finally, Castiel shifted, wings flexing.

"My brothers and sister do not much care for me," he admitted quietly. "They…fear me."

Dean shrugged, picking at the grass. "Gabriel seemed to care a lot."

Castiel made an irritated noise. "And it has damaged him. The others look down upon him for it."

"So?" Dean looked up at the angel, the big brother in him rising. "He loves you. He doesn't care about them, and you shouldn't either."

"They see him defend me!" Castiel snapped suddenly, but the fire behind it wasn't directed at Dean. "He could be leader one day, as strong as Michael or Lucifer, but instead the people look down upon him as weak and foolish."

Dean gaped, momentarily speechless. "You don't want him protecting you because you think you  _drag him down_? And I thought  _I_  had self-esteem issues."

Castiel looked away from him, jaw clenched and wings held stiffly.

"I am not normal," the angel said lowly. "I have accepted that, and accepted my role in the tribe. Gabriel fights a battle that cannot be won."

"You're his  _brother_ ," Dean immediately thought of Sam. Of what he'd do to keep him safe. What he  _did_. "He'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Castiel turned to look at him, smiling weakly. "You are a good man, Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckled at that, shifting closer to nudge the angel with his shoulder. "And you're a pretty awesome angel. Hell, I like you, and I'm a pretty unsocial bastard."

Castiel laughed then, ducking his head shyly. "I like you too."

A different Castiel echoed in his mind, dream-like and distant. Phantom lips ghosted over his cheeks, and Dean cleared his throat nervously, getting to his feet.

"Well now that we've had our moment, we should head back." Dean offered Castiel his hand. "Don't want Gabriel worrying now, do we?"

Castiel studied his hand for a moment, before tentatively taking it with his own, allowing Dean to pull him up.

"Yes. Thank you," he said quietly, shooting the human a shy smile. "I'm glad you came to talk to me."

Dean looked away awkwardly. "I, uh, yeah. Me too."

Castiel hooked his arm into Dean's, apparently perfectly comfortable with once again invading the personal space boundaries. But this time, Dean didn't say anything, merely tucking the angel's elbow closer into his, setting a course back towards the home tree.

Around them, the forest watched, hundreds of eyes curious and gleeful.

 

* * *

 

"I should be in there, Sam. That's my little brother!"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, shrugging his shoulders unhappily.

"What could you do, Gabriel? Give them some time."

Gabriel turned away from him as Balthazar approached, reaching out to grab his younger brother by the arm.

"Have you seen Castiel?" he asked desperately.

The taller angel frowned, grey eyes confused. "No, should I have? What's the little squirt done now?"

Gabriel dropped his hand. "Nothing. It's Lucifer."

Sam took a step back as Balthazar's wings snapped outwards, feathers fanning aggressively.

"What did he do?" the baltoh snarled, brown wings flapping. "I swear to Geiad, I'll kill him this time, I swear!"

Two shapes detached from the forest, black feathers catching the light, and the three turned simultaneously to see Dean and Castiel emerge from the tree line. Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief, Balthazar hurrying forward in a flurry of agitated feathers.

"Did he touch you again?" Balthazar demanded, jostling Dean aside to grab Castiel's chin. He growled as he noticed the redness, the slight brush of a bruise. "That's it. I'm taking that bastard  _down._ "

A small gaggle of angels had returned from gathering food, and as they passed by, aimed a few disgusted looks at the two. Sam watched them curiously, wondering why there was so much mistrust. Was it because Castiel was different? An iadnamad ?

Castiel smiled weakly, pulling his chin away. "Balthazar, you have no hope of defeating Lucifer in a fight."

The blonde snorted, bundling his younger brother into a possessive hug. "Who said anything about fighting? I'll stab him in his sleep. I'm not above fighting dirty."

"He's alright, Balthazar," Gabriel murmured, approaching with Sam.

Castiel glanced over at his older brother as he was released, eyes softening. "I am. Thank you, Gabriel."

Gabriel's eyes widened, before his whole face crumpled. Like Balthazar, he tugged the younger angel into his arms, hugging Castiel close against his chest. Though a good few inches taller than Gabriel, Castiel allowed himself to be tucked up against his older brother like a fledgling, eyes fluttering shut as he wedged his nose into the curve of Gabriel's neck.

"You're my baby bro, kiddo," Gabriel whispered, his speckled wings rippling with spasms as Castiel touched them with his own reassuringly.

Sam shot a smile towards Dean, expecting his brother to be rolling his eyes at the show of affection.

Instead his brother was watching Castiel with a serious look, eyebrows furrowed. He noticed Sam watching him, and turned away hurriedly, motioning for Sam to follow.

"Come on, Sam. Let's go find Bobby."

 

* * *

 

"Why are you even here? Stop fiddlin' with shit and behave!"

Dean glanced over towards Bobby, pausing the camera. The lab was relatively quiet. Most of the scientists were down in the lower labs analyzing various samples Bobby had brought back from the Ne'gassagen tree. It left Dean the perfect opportunity to get caught up with logging his experiences on camera, according to Bobby. Video logs were important, useful tools for documenting details that could help the project.

But it was so damn  _boring._

Any distraction was welcome, and this time it came in the form of a black suited figure, currently poking around Bobby's lab.

Crowley pouted, leaning against a workbench as he crossed his arms. "But isn't that what you science guys do?  _Fiddle_ with things?"

Bobby glared over at the demon murderously. "You fiddle with  _anythin',_ and I'll show you just what we science guys can  _do_."

Dean shot a wink at Sam, expecting his brother to be silently laughing at the innuendo as well, but Sam was buried in a huge textbook, expression solemn and completely unaware of the world around him.

Geek.

Dean stretched, arching his back and grimacing as he felt a vertebrae crack. Between spending time with Cas learning how to be a hippy of the forest, and having to help Bobby with his research, it was a rare occasion for Dean to just have some hours to kill at the complex. Usually, he would have gone to the gym or tried to catch a game of cards with Ash, but with Alistair still lurking around it seemed safer to stick to the lab.

Crowley ignored Bobby's death glares, turning to poke cautiously at a glass vial containing some sort of green sludge. "So how's it all going Dean-o? The angels taking a liking to you?"

There was something guarded in his voice. Dean shrugged, turning back to his video log. "Can't say. I still have to go through the whole ceremony thing before they'll fully trust me."

Bobby stomped towards Crowley with a growl, and the demon darted away, coming to stand next to Dean's bench instead. The demon glanced curiously over at Sam, cocking his head to try and read the gold embossed title of the heavy book.

"Colonel says you haven't reported for a while," he remarked offhandedly. "He's getting impatient."

Dean swallowed. He hadn't seen the Colonel in over a week. Not for a lack of trying, he had every intention of reporting in like a good soldier, but every time he'd start down towards the Colonel's office, Ruby would appear out of no-where, dragging him off. Every time it was something new, something she needed help with. Dean had spent hours working on the helicraft with her-even though Dean swore they were things the demon could do herself. She was like his shadow, appearing every time he had to walk somewhere alone, falling into step with him like it was completely normal. It was unnerving at first, how she always turned up at  _just_ the right moment, even though it should have been impossible for her to know.

It should have been annoying—to be babysat by a  _demon_ of all things—but Dean was actually, well, kind of grateful.

Because there was a reason Ruby hung around. A reason she followed him down every dark alley, into every nook and cranny, watching him like a hawk all hours of the day.

Alistair.

Like a black eyed vulture, he circled Dean every chance he got. Ruby kept him at bay, but Dean knew a day would come when she wouldn't be there. He'd have to face the wolf eventually, but for the time being, Dean was happy just ignoring the bastard.

"Yeah. I know."

Crowley was watching him, red eyes serious. "You and I both know Azazel is the biggest dick to ever dick upon this unfortunate universe. But the guy gets the job done. If you keep your head down and do what you're told, he's not so bad."

Bobby bustled up, and Crowley darted away again, seeking haven over by Sam instead.

"If this damn company put more effort into  _research_ instead of cuttin' shit down, we might not need idiots like Azazel!" Bobby spat, one hand falling on Dean's shoulder protectively. "It's a damn sight more profitable too."

Crowley held his hands up in surrender. "Hey I don't make the decisions. I'm just the wildly attractive face of the company."

Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam was biting his lip as he read, one finger tapping the book page as he mulled over whatever it was brainiacs like him actually mulled over. The kid came out with Dean to the tribe pretty much every day, amassing more and more data for the project. Or so he said. Dean only ever saw him talking to Gabriel.

Bobby's voice grew more heated, Crowley's gleeful and patronizing as they argued. Bored and wanting some sort of entertainment, Dean looked around. A pen lay half-buried under a pad of paper, and grinning wolfishly, Dean snatched it up. Grabbing the tip between his thumb and forefinger, he closed one eye and lined it up carefully with Sam's shoulder.

Sam jerked like a startled deer when the pen smacked him, blinking owlishly. He glowered unhappily towards Dean, scowling.

"Oh,  _real_ mature," he grumbled as Dean laughed. "What are you, five?"

Dean leaned forward, curling his tongue behind his teeth. "Whatcha reading Sam? Must be something  _reallly_ interesting."

Sam huffed, rolling his eyes. "If you're about to make some sort of joke about stashing porn in textbooks, that was  _one time,_ Dean. And if you  _have_ to know," Sam sniffed haughtily, flicking the pen back towards him. "I'm reading about angelic mating traditions."

The pen clattered harmlessly on the desk, and Dean winked at him. "Oh so you're reading  _angel_  porn? Kinky, Sam."

Sam made a sound of annoyance, hiding his face back in the book. Dean frowned thoughtfully at him, swiveling around in his chair. Bobby and Crowley were still going at it, Bobby's arms crossed and death glare in full force.

"Hey, Bobby?"

The two stopped arguing, the scientist turning towards him with a long suffering look.

"What, Dean?" he asked exasperatedly. "You should be doin' your video log."

Dean waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I got a serious science question here."

"Well that's a nice change," Bobby pulled out a chair at the bench, sinking down. "Shoot."

"Angel sex. How does it work?"

Sam made a wounded sound, forehead banging against the desk as Bobby gawked at Dean. Crowley laughed, slapping his thigh with glee.

"Well, see darling, when a momma angel and a daddy angel love each other very much-"

Dean made a face at the demon. "Very funny. I'm just curious. Sam said something about equal gender roles and I-" he trailed off, squinting at Crowley suspiciously. "Actually, wait a minute. How do  _demons_ do it?"

Bobby turned to look at Crowley triumphantly, crossing his arms. "Yeah Crowley,  _do_ tell us."

Crowley glared at them both, no longer laughing. "How do you think? We have the same bits as you."

Sam popped up from his book, looking smug. "Not strictly true. I took a module on demonic reproduction one semester. It was,  _interesting_."

"What is this? The Discovery channel?" Crowley asked irritably. Dean merely looked at him expectantly, Bobby and Sam sharing smug looks.

"For  _science,_  Crowley," Bobby sniggered, Sam stifling a laugh. "Educate the boy."

Crowley shot them both a dark look. "That's  _Lord_ Crowley to you, peasant, and fine. We lay eggs. Happy?"

Dean stared at him for a moment. "You know, that kinda makes sense."

The demon groaned, rubbing his temples unhappily. "You idiot. Of course we don't lay eggs. Do I look like a bloody chicken?"

Sam dropped his textbook flat onto the desk. "No, but you're ovoviviparous. So technically, there are eggs involved."

"Like sharks," Dean chimed in helpfully. All three turned to stare at him incredulously, and he folded his arms defensively. "What? I used to watch shark week. I can talk geek too."

He wrinkled his nose, suddenly realizing. "Oh, ew. That means you guys like,  _eat_ each other in there? Before you're born?"

Crowley shrugged, straightening his jacket self-consciously. "So? It's not  _that_ weird you know. Lots of species on Hel do it that way."

"Why am I not at all surprised?" Dean muttered.

"Angels," Bobby interrupted, drawing them back to the original question. "Reproduce like us, Dean. They have internal fertilization and a gestation period. It's a lil' longer than a human's, but that's to be expected. They're more complicated, biologically."

"Only difference is that males can also conceive," Sam added. "Probably an evolutionary adaptation seeing as female angels take much longer to mature, and are generally rarer. They're kind of like…seahorses."

Dean frowned at that, momentarily startled by the thought of Cas's face on a seahorse body, puttering around a sea bed. "Then what's the goddamn point in having different sexes in the first place?"

Bobby shrugged. "Yet another question we're tryin' to answer. They probably weren't always that way. Some think it's a response to the slave trade stealin' all the females, but that's probably a load of bull."

Crowley made a face. "Well this was a wonderful way to start the day. Sex and slavery. Thank you  _ever_ so much for that, but I'll be on my way now."

Bobby grinned after the demon as he made his escape. "Damn, if I'd known that's all it took to get rid of 'im I'd have done it sooner."

Sam chuckled, going back to his book, and Dean turned back towards his video log with a smile.

Cas was going to have to answer  _a lot_ of awkward questions later.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

He felt old.

His skin felt stretched, too tight across the juts of his shoulders, the planes of his face. If he scraped his nails along the paper thin skin, no blood would well, just flumes of dust, the burnt ashes of a spent life.

How long had it been?

Years,  _decades_ , since he had stood upon the hot dirt of his home, stood beneath the glorious red sky that had once witnessed his birth. He missed Hel's warmth, her fierce and unyielding plains of desert, and the sharp fanged creatures that roamed her wastes. She was his temptress, his lover and parent, and she called to him through time and space, beckoning him home.

But he could never go home.

Hel was a different creature now, tamed and subdued. She was but a shadow of her former glory, chained and beaten into submission by a race that deserved no such honor. It sickened him, made his hearts feel heavy with shame and dread. To think that he had lived to see the day. The day when Hel was sullied beyond recognition. How his ancestors would have raged if they had lived to see it.  _They_  would not have allowed Hel to fall.  _They_ would have fought to the last demon, not surrendered and pleaded peace.

 _Peace._ Demons knew no such word.

Azazel glared viciously at the far wall of his office, fingers flexing convulsively against his desk. Paperwork spilled across it in haphazard piles, sheets he had long ignored. That little red eyed shit upstairs let him get away with most things, late paperwork, a fight here and there, but this time all bets were off. This time…this time, Crowley had gone too far.

The red eye was practically keeping Winchester under lock and key. Azazel was the damn  _security chief.,_ Winchester was  _his_ , not Crowley's.

Alistair paced along the office wall, eyes downcast.

"It's not for a lack of trying, Sir," his voice shook, the black eye desperate to placate the wildly unpredictable yellow. "Winchester is under guard these days. He barely spends any time here and when he does, I can't catch him alone."

Azazel leant back in his chair, curling his lip in a sneer. "You mean playing with the science nerds. Am I the only one who actually remembers the whole  _point_ to this project?"

Alistair cringed away from him, ducking his head low and freezing. Azazel was used to it. There had been a time on Hel when  _every_ demon had submitted to him like that, not just greasy blacks without a brain cell between them. A time when yellow eyes had been  _respected_ and  _feared._

A time when the world still made sense.

Azazel glanced towards the far wall. An illuminated screen displayed the time and date, yet another useless addition of technology that the company installed everywhere. "The point to why we're even  _on_ this damn station, on this Sithis-forsaken planet, in the first place? _"_  He slammed a fist onto the desk, and Alistair flinched. "That damn red eye squawks about results, but does everything in his power to stop me doing my damn  _job._ Now I can't even get within two paces of Winchester without something getting in the way."

Alistair swallowed. "What should we do?"

"I tell you what we do," Azazel rose from his chair, and though Alistair cringed as the older demon approached, the little punk knew better than to move. Azazel grabbed the younger demon by the throat, a thrill of satisfaction settling in his chest as his fingers dug welts into the soft skin of Alistair's throat. He could feel the panicked patter of the demon's racing hearts, and he squeezed the pulses viciously. "We do what we're supposed to do. What we  _planned_ to do."

Alistair's black eyes flashed, his voice choked and breathy. "But…the company-"

"I don't give a  _damn_ about the company!" Azazel bellowed, shaking him. "You hear me? It can  _rot_ for all I care!"

Alistair tried to swallow, throat bobbing beneath Azazel's fingers. "It's just…last time we-"

"Alistair," he warned, fingers tightening. "Do you remember what I said the  _last time?"_

Those beady black eyes were panicked now, wide and bulging. It shamed Azazel that humans even  _dared_  call black eyes demons. They were pathetic, cringing little insects that belonged under his boot. Disgusted, Azazel shoved Alistiar away, and the demon sucked in deep whistling breaths.

"Get out of my sight. I've got plans to prepare."

Alistair clutched his bruised throat as he watched Azazel move back towards his desk. The yellow eye sank back down in his seat nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened, sending an irritated look towards his subordinate.

"Alistair if you're still in my office in the next five seconds, I am going to bend you across this desk and show you the true meaning of pain," he said calmly.

Alistair straightened with a shudder, his voice raspy. "Yes, Sir. Just one…just one more…thing, Sir."

Azazel arched an eyebrow, and Alistair ducked his head, already beginning to back out of the office.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I know it's today. The…the anniversary. I'm sorry."

The black eye retreated towards the safety of the hallway, disappearing from view as Azazel glared after him. Though his fingers twitched convulsively, he studiously ignored the feeling. Avoided sliding open the drawer of his desk like he so wanted to. He didn't even have to glance at the crinkled file that had lain there for close to sixteen years. He had memorized it, the pictures and words accompanying it. Knew every line, every sickly praise that had been sent to thousands of families across Hel for their sacrifice. As if it was some noble gift they had chosen to give, not ripped from them by force.

It whispered to him, fierce and angry. It demanded a debt that had yet to be paid, bade blood that had yet to be spilled.

"Soon, baby," he promised it, and his fingers stilled, the emptiness in his chest lessening. "Soon. I promise."

Azazel pushed away from his desk. He had a message to send.

 

* * *

 

This was it.

This was  _it_ , the day Dean had been training, sweating, and at times, almost  _dying,_  for. He had faced cat monsters, ridden hell beasts, and assimilated himself into an alien culture. He had learnt how to fire a bow, to speak in another language (sort of), and even managed to defeat Castel in a fight.

Once.

Maybe.

The angel  _may_  have just faked his defeat to make Dean feel better.

Rain dribbled from the overcast heavens as Hershey made his way up the sheer rock face. Dean wrapped his arms tighter around Castiel's waist, pressing himself more firmly into the comfort of the angel's wings as they climbed higher. There was barely a path up the mountain side, the steep drop off to the right a sobering reminder of what might happen if Hershey were to slip. Castiel's wings shifted, rubbing against Dean's chest soothingly, and Dean subconsciously pressed closer, assured by his friend's calm.

And they were that now: friends. Soon-to-be brothers, Cas kept reminding him, though Dean thought that sounded kind of creepy. Considering the number of times he ended up dreaming of random make out sessions with said angel, Dean could do without adding  _incest_ to his long list of fuck ups.

Hershey snorted beneath them, talons slipping on the wet rock and sending loose pebbles clattering down the steep incline. Dean swallowed, squeezing Castiel a little bit tighter as the angel urged Hershey up the slippery slope with encouraging clicks of his tongue.

Ancient vines stretched along the rock face to their left, creaking as the somber procession of Levithmong passed by. Dean could see Uriel at the front of them all, sitting stonily and arrogant as he led the way up the winding path towards their destination. Uriel's Levithmong was as scary looking as Uriel was, heavily ridged and scaled as it dug its sharp claws into the rock to move towards higher ground. Behind Uriel were others, younger angels all about to go through the same test as Dean would. All of them rode with an older angel with their own Levithmong. That was what they were all here for, to forge a bond with their very own hell beast.

All they had to do was  _find_ the damn critters. Apparently, wild Levithmong preferred the clear and thin air only found at the top of freaking  _mountains._ Go figure.

Dean counted at least six youngsters, though he didn't recognize any of them. All of them so much younger than he was, much more capable. He felt like an old fogey, too clueless and stumbling to be truly worthy of something the Ne'gassagen held in such high regard. There was a reason he was last, the caboose of a fail train currently chugging towards destiny.

Wingless, graceless; that was him.  _Nidali-vpaah,_ Uriel called him. Unworthy of the honor the Ne'gassagen had chosen to bestow on him.

Humph. Dean would show that miserable bastard just how  _vpaah_ he could be.

Hopefully without dying.

A young female angel was just ahead of Hershey, and Dean craned his face over Castiel's shoulder to watch her. She was a pretty little thing, with blonde curls and dusky auburn wings. She was nervous, he could tell from the tell-tale twitching of her agitated wings. Her hair swayed in the chill breeze, and she shivered, turning slightly to look towards Castiel.

"What of the teloch?" she asked worriedly, Dean understanding some of her quiet Enochian. "It is known to nest here Castiel, what if-"

Castiel shushed her gently. "Hester, stop scaring yourself. Do you think Uriel would lead us into danger?"

She relaxed a bit, though her teeth still worried her lower lip nervously. "No, of course not, but-"

The angel she was riding with jostled her with an irritated bark, and she turned back around, falling silent. Dean frowned.

"Teloch?" he whispered. Castiel tugged lightly on Hershey's reins, and the Levithmong swung up the slope, snapping vines in his wake.

"Do not worry Dean," the angel murmured. "You have other things to think about right now."

Dean snorted, glancing down towards the drop again. "Yeah, like  _dying._ "

Eventually the steep incline flattened out to a rocky path that they still had to carefully pick their way through. The vegetation grew denser; thick veins that trailed down from ancient towering trees brushed against their shoulders as they passed. The air was colder up here, thinner, and Dean breathed in deeply as they cleared the vegetation to emerge at a large clearing.

Uriel stopped up ahead, and the following Levithmong pawed at the rock beneath them nervously, snorting to one another as distant bellows echoed towards them.

"We are here," Castiel whispered, and his wings pressed against Dean's front, warm and comforting as he urged Hershey up towards Uriel. "It is time."

A valley stretched in front of them, scooped into the very mountain. Smaller trees and shrubs dotted the green grass, and nestled securely within its protective embrace were the creatures they were looking for. A large wild herd over a hundred head strong had decided to nest here. Several large males standing along the edges of the main herd barked an alarm as they spotted the angels, warm breath misty in the cool air. A flock of youngsters jolted at the sound, small legs pounding through the grass as they retreated towards the safety of their mothers.

Uriel snorted, dismounting with a heavy beat of his wide wings.

"The  _nidali vpaah_ will go first," he sneered, looking towards Dean. "Perhaps if he is lucky, he will not die horribly."

Dean shot Castiel a look as he slid off of Hershey, and the angel winced apologetically.

The younger angels all stared at Dean as he slowly made his way up towards Uriel. Hester whispered a quick word of encouragement despite the others' disapproving glares, and Dean shot her a grateful smile.

Reaching Uriel, Dean looked out over the herd, aghast. There were so  _many._  How the hell was he supposed to magically find one to somehow make him a true Ne'gassagen?

Castiel moved to Dean's side, wings rustling. He handed the human a thick length of rope, nodding encouragingly as Dean took it.

"You will be fine, Dean. Do not fear."

Dean smiled back weakly, the threads of rope scratchy against his palms. "So, I just have to rope myself a steed huh?"

He looked dubiously towards where the wild males were still snorting in alarm, some of the smaller ones ushering the females and younger Levithmong away from the angels and further into the safety of the valley. The males were huge, scaled tanks of muscle that looked perfectly capable of squishing him with one step.

Uriel was right. Dean was going to die horribly.

A small rocky path stretched down the valley and into the taller grass, and Dean started down it cautiously, boots sending cascades of pebbles bouncing. Castiel followed him despite Uriel's grumbled protests, keeping a small distance as Levithmong trumpeted around them, the sound echoing through the trees.

"Remember," Castiel whispered. "Once it has chosen you, you must be quick to forge the bond."

Dean sighed unhappily, eyeing a few Levithmong that had settled in the shade of the trees nearby. They stood their ground until he got too close, then bounded away with nervous bleats.

"How will I even know, Cas? I mean,  _look_  at them all."

Castiel shook his head with a smile, his wing stretching forward to brush against Dean's shoulder reassuringly.

"You'll know, Dean. Trust in Geiad."

Castiel then pulled back to watch as Dean continued moving forward, rope in hand. The trees thinned, vegetation becoming more shrub-like as he moved towards a rocky slope where many Levithmong had been sunning themselves in the mid-day heat. One large male snapped at him as he approached, hissing as it rattled its neck plates angrily, but it withdrew when he flicked the rope at it.

Others followed suit, all glaring and hissing as they retreated towards safety.

Dean growled irritably, struggling to climb the rocky slope.

"What am I even looking for?" he muttered exasperatedly, already sweating and tired. His hand slipped on one rough rock and he hissed through his teeth as it drew a small cut. A thin bead of blood welled from his finger, and he put it to his mouth sullenly.

"Great. I'm bleeding already."

A little further up the pile of rock, a group of youngsters suddenly shifted. They had been lying down in the shade, escaping the hot suns of the day, and now all moved nervously away, a larger shape moving through them towards Dean.

A female had been lying with them, and unlike the rest of her herd, she stood her ground as Dean approached. Also unlike the other grey Levithmong that had surrounded her, she was a sleek black, her armored plates a shimmering blue contrast against her dark skin. Her tail flicked lazily back and forth as she arched her back, but her four dark eyes were trained on Dean, and the smudge of blood along his finger.

She was slimmer and more toned than the burlier males, probably built more for speed and agility. Her six legs moved restlessly as she stared back at Dean insolently, hissing.

"Alright," Dean stretched the rope between his hands, heart racing. "Let's dance sweetheart."

The Levithmong didn't bother with threatening postures. She came at him with full on fury, slamming into his side as her back legs kicked out at him. Pain blossomed along Dean's ribs, but he wrestled the rope around her thick neck, twisting the rope around his hands and locking them into place. She reared then, hissing angrily, and he used the opportunity to swing himself half up onto her back.

Snorting wildly, she pranced along the ground, back arched, before whipping her head up sharply. Her thick skull slammed into Dean's shoulder, knocking him off her. His back smashed onto rock, and he cried out in pain. Castiel's worried shout drowned out the pain buzzing in his skull, and Dean rolled to the left, just as the Levithmong 's talons cracked into the ground where his head had been.

The rope still swung from her neck, and as the Levithmong bore down again, Dean grabbed for it, injured finger stinging as he pulled on the rough threads with all his strength.

With a squawk, she crashed down to the ground onto her side, and despite his pain, Dean twisted the rope around his now bleeding knuckles, and tugged her head up. She struggled, but Dean hurriedly pinned her neck with his body, locking his legs around her heaving chest. Her lower body thrashed, legs kicking, but Dean held firm.

She snapped at him, beak catching the skin of his shoulder and drawing blood. Dean growled, and twisted the rope tighter, strength already fading. If she didn't give up soon, he didn't stand a chance.

"Stop!" he bellowed, willing something to happen. She fought harder, and he clamped down on her, gritting his teeth.

"Son of a bitch,  _chill_!" he shouted, shoulders straining. "I'm not going to hurt you! RELAX!"

A sudden flare of,  _awareness,_ erupted in his mind. Something strange and alien brushed up against him, a ghostly touch of something he didn't understand. The Levithmong's eyes widened and she went completely limp, docile and compliant. Dean didn't let go, breathing hard as he kept her pinned in place.

She didn't move, large ribcage heaving. The weird feeling passed, and Dean shook himself, laughing breathlessly.

"Good girl."

He ran a hand down her slick neck, and she trembled beneath his touch, beak stretched wide as she panted. "I'm gonna let you go now, okay? No killing me."

Cautiously, Dean forced his muscles to relax, rolling away from the creature and getting to his knees. Slowly the Levithmong got to her feet, head hung low and eyes watching him. Dean offered his hand to her, and she cautiously smelled him.

"Good girl," he repeated, clicking his tongue at her like Castiel had showed him. Her rigid posture relaxed at that, and she crooned to him, moving in to rub her head against his chest and face.

Castiel was grinning as he approached, Uriel a furious presence at his back.

"Well done, Dean. She is beautiful," Castiel looked proud, wings puffed and held high. "What will you call her?"

The Levithmong was nibbling at his hair, and Dean laughed, shoving her away playfully. She moved back in to bump her forehead against his, and he stroked his bruised knuckles across the dark blue plates along her cheeks.

"Chevy," Dean smiled, and she purred against him. "She reminds me a bit of those old cars my dad liked."

Castiel nodded, moving to remove the rope from her neck. She looked curiously towards Dean, and he merely nodded at her. Satisfied, she snorted, standing quietly as Castiel fixed a simple halter with the rope, tying it around her head easily.

"First ride seals the bond," the angel explained. "I hope you don't mind if I accompany you."

In a daze, Dean allowed himself to be hoisted and settled on his new companion's back. Chevy flexed her shoulders expectantly, and that same weird sense of awareness filtered into his mind. He could… _feel_ her, feel her excitement and curiosity. Could taste the warm air in her lungs, the hard ground beneath her feet. Castiel got on behind him, arms sliding beneath his elbows, and Dean stupidly realized that this was actually real. He was sitting on his very own Levithmong.

Holy shit.

"You control her, Dean," Castiel whispered in his ear, and Dean shivered. "Tell her to run."

The last thing Dean really saw was Uriel's furious gaze, before the surroundings around them turned into a green blur. Trees and shrubs whipped by them, Chevy barely noticing them as she climbed the wall of the valley easily, balancing for a moment on the flat edge at the very top of the valley.

Dean shouted as the Levithmong then just launched into space; legs spread as she hurtled down the slope. Castiel's laughter was loud in Dean's ear, arms tight across the human's belly and feathers rustling as they seemed to just fall into emptiness. For a stomach churning moment, Dean's panicked thoughts imagined a terrible death dashed against sharp rocks, or lying battered and broken at the bottom of the mountain, waiting for Uriel to rescue them.

But that awareness pulsed through him again, soothing and confident. Gritting his teeth, Dean trusted Chevy's instinct, trying to push away the fear that always consumed him whenever air travel was involved.

She landed, claws digging into the wet rock with a crack. Her powerful legs bunched, and just as quickly, she vaulted again, air whistling past them.

"You did it, Dean!" Castiel's words were swept away on the wind, but Dean could feel the angel's smile against his ear, feel the drugged happiness exuding from the angel's very being. "You are truly Ne'gassagen now!"

Chevy landed again, loose rock sent clattering, but this time Dean trusted her. He trusted her to know where to step, where to jump and land. There would be no horrible deaths here.

Dean relaxed, and the fear that usually paralyzed him was gone, stolen by the wind whipping past. As they finally made it to flat land, Chevy launching through the forest easily, Dean felt wild and carefree, voice whooping through the trees as Castiel laughed behind him.

His thighs vibrated as Chevy screamed her happiness along with him, the three of them a wild force of nature, as free and untamed as Oadriax herself.

 

* * *

 

The older angel females were out washing various rugs and clothes as Sam wandered down to the main river. The clan used it for pretty much everything and the grassy banks were strewn with clothes spread out to dry in the midday suns. A gaggle of very young children sat on the bank, some playing in the shallow water with happy squeals as they splashed one another. Sam shot them a smile as he passed, and their squealing grew louder.

Raphael sat a little ways from the edge of the water, surrounded by a few females, and she shot Sam a small smile and nod as he passed. The iadnamad was telling them a story about Geiad, no doubt a teaching, and all the angels listened to her respectfully.

All except Lucifer.

The baltoh sat sullenly nearby, ordered by Michael himself to protect Raphael. Sam avoided the angel nervously, electing instead to follow the well tread dirt path away from the river. It followed a smaller stream full of life, and Sam watched the brightly colored fish deliberately, avoiding Lucifer's gaze. Eventually, he could feel those cool eyes leave him as he moved further into the forest, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

The stream led to a small pond, the water still and quiet. It was a perfect bathing spot, and it was here Sam finally caught up with Gabriel.

The angel had waded towards the center of the pond, water above his waist. He gave Sam a friendly wave as he approached, and Sam settled on the bank, slipping his boots off with a satisfied groan.

"No offence, but your brother is creepy," Sam remarked, toeing off his socks and slipping his overheated feet into the cool water. He curled his toes happily, watching small fish dart in to investigate.

Gabriel snorted, cupping water in his hands and splashing it towards his face. "You're telling me. Try growing up with him."

Sam chuckled as Gabriel flicked his wings clear of excess water. It was like watching a bird of Earth; the angel's wings were cocked, feathers puffed and happy as he dipped his shoulders towards the water. His wings dipped briefly into the water, before pulling out to shake furiously. Droplets shimmered in the sunlight along the delicate feathers, like tiny adorned gems.

Gabriel paused for a moment, turning to look at Sam, before chuckling and shaking his head.

Sam swung his feet back and forth in the water, scaring the fish away. "What?"

Gabriel ducked his face into the water, smoothing his wet hair back as he came up.

"It's just, surreal, you know? You're here and I'm here and it's just," he shrugged. "Like a dream."

Sam laughed. "Yeah 'cause I totally dream about watching an overgrown pigeon have a bath."

Gabriel paused, arching an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you don't?"

He and Gabriel had quickly struck up a firm friendship since Sam's first days in the clan. Something about the baltoh just made Sam feel at ease, and they were just as curious as each other. Gabriel was intelligent and Earth obsessed, and Sam was,  _sometimes,_ intelligent and Oadriax obsessed. Gabriel made him feel welcome, less of an awkward earthling, and Sam was grateful. Even though, half the time Sam wasn't sure if the angel was joking, or  _flirting_  with him.

Sam found he didn't really mind either way.

It was a novel thing, having a friend. He hadn't been very social at school, much more focused on his work, or Jess. His closest friend was his brother, but even Sam had to admit that there had been a few rough years between Dean and him.

Sam jerked his foot above the water, flicking droplets towards Gabriel with a kick.

"You know what I meant."

Gabriel chuckled, ducking back under water briefly. "Well okay let me rephrase. It's, weird you know?"

Sam felt a brief surge of nervousness. Did the angel not enjoy being around him? So he  _was_ just an annoying earthling who had no business being a part of any Ne'gassagen proje-

Gabriel wriggled a finger in his ear, spitting out water. "I could see your world, this, amazing,  _alien_  thing that I could read about, and watch holos of, and I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to see your Citadel and check out everything I've been missing. I guess, in a way, I felt more a part of it than my own world."

The angel shrugged, rubbing his wings together. "And having you here, it finally feels like I got a piece of it."

Sam smiled warmly, nervousness melting away into sudden relief. "You really are a sentimental sap, aren't you?"

Sam yelped as Gabriel sent a wave of water crashing towards him with a brief flex of wings. It soaked him through, and Sam glowered over at the grinning angel.

"Real mature," Sam sighed, grabbing the bottom of his now wet t-shirt. "Well, for what it's worth, I was the same."

He peeled the fabric away from his stomach and chest, lifting it over his head. Wet tendrils of hair stuck to his cheeks, and he brushed them away absently. His t-shirt made a wet splat as he tossed it behind him, the afternoon air already warming his chilled skin.

"I wanted to be here instead of Earth. It was so exotic and exciting," Sam rolled his eyes. "And  _way_ better than the Citadel, believe me."

Gabriel was staring at him, expression strangely slack. Sam frowned, glancing down at himself curiously. Did he have something on him? Hopefully not a poisonous Loxosceles or something equally as terrifying. His own bare skin glared up at him, nothing out of the ordinary, and Sam glanced back up.

"Gabe?"

The angel snapped out of his stupor, turning back around briskly. "Oh. Yup. What a pair we are, huh?"

Sam watched him, puzzled. The angel's movements were jerky as he continued his grooming, shoulders stiff and tense.

Shrugging, Sam got to his feet, fingers unbuttoning his jeans. Gabriel seemed to freeze at the rustling, keeping his eyes forward as Sam struggled out of his damp jeans.

"Whatcha doing, Sam?" the angel asked carefully.

"Well some jerk got my clothes wet, so I figured I might as well cool off." Noticing the angel's rigid posture, Sam snorted. "Oh calm down Gabriella, I've got underwear on."

At the nickname, Gabriel relaxed, limbs melting back into his usual graceful movements. Sam tentatively waded in, shuddering at the cold water as it climbed up his legs. The water was beautifully blue, slightly cloudy, but the perfect temperature for the warm day.

"Well I'm glad one of us does," Gabriel chirped cheerfully as Sam waded out towards him. "Though you won't be needing them."

Sam peered over at him suspiciously, water lapping against his own thighs. "I won't?"

Gabriel ignored him, continuing to wash himself. It was then Sam noticed the water dipping around the angel's hipbones. The water was mostly cloudy, but he could see pale skin stretch beneath the surface, tapering down towards-

Naked.

Gabriel was naked.

Sam felt like slapping himself. Of  _course_ Gabriel was naked. Who went bathing in their clothes?

 _Just Samantha-the-prude, apparently,_  Sam groaned silently.

He stood there awkwardly, unsure what he should do. Should he leave? Gabriel hadn't exactly told him to go away when he had come over. It was no different than a shower room really, wasn't it? No big deal. Just, naked angel. No problem, he had shared an apartment with Dean long enough and he had had roommates back at college. This wasn't weird. Except…

This wasn't his brother. This was  _Gabriel._

A  _naked_ Gabriel.

Sam just stood there, blushing and flustered as he silently argued with himself. Gabriel continued his wash, apparently not sharing Sam's discomfort. The angel happily ducked into the water, only to re-emerge in a wide spray of glittering droplets. It was after Gabriel's third dip into the water that Sam stopped arguing with himself long enough to notice the angel's wings.

Angel's communicated a lot with their wings. Sam had done several modules of it at college—even had an exam or two on it. He had watched hours of footage, studied the flick of feathers, the curves of coverts. He knew the subtle differences of feather movements, was as well versed in the language of wings as Enochian, even though the human had none of his own.

Gabriel's own speckled wings drooped low into the water, curving slightly towards Sam. It was a submissive posture, and Sam watched as the feathers rippled. A sudden quick sweep upwards and the wings were displayed in all their glory. The feathers stretched wide and posturing. Then finally, dropped back down to fold tightly against Gabriel's back, smooth and flat.

Sam had watched these holos. Had sat through the lectures where other students giggled and nudged each other as their professor droned on in a very clinical voice about  _courtship, reproduction_ and a host of other boring sounding words.

Sam froze, unsure.

Gabriel hummed innocently to himself, splashing water along his arms as his wings repeated the same three postures. Sam watched as the muscles shifted beneath the angel's skin, the curve of his back and the place where feathers overlapped skin. From the first moment he had met Gabriel he had wanted to touch them, to trace the rippling joints and muscles.

Now he was being invited, and Sam didn't have much willpower to begin with.

"Gabriel," he warned lowly. "I don't, I don't think you know what you're doing."

Gabriel didn't look at him, continuing his washing. "What's that, Sam?" he chirped as his wing postures changed. Sam spluttered as he recognized the invitation to do something incredibly  _scandalous._ He crossed his arms stoically, going for a stern, mature approach.

"Gabriel," Sam tried again, ignoring the slight waver in his voice. "I believe you're trying to seduce me."

Gabriel turned to him, gold eyes round with mock shock as his wings stilled.

"What,  _me_?" he smiled wickedly, and Sam's heart gave a worried thump. "Why, is it working?"

The angel moved closer, and Sam avoided his eyes, taking a step back as he held his hands up. Water sloshed against his legs, preventing any attempt at a quick getaway.

"Gabriel, I uh, I just…"

Sam's voice faltered as Gabriel's chest pressed up against his hands, Sam's fingers twitching against warm skin. Gabriel's eyes were like melted molasses, a sticky caramel that locked Sam into place, and the human exhaled shakily as Gabriel slowly curled his fingers around Sam's wrists. Slowly and deliberately, Gabriel drew Sam's hands away, stepping in closer.

"Samuel," Gabriel said seriously, and Sam held his breath as the angel leaned in close. "Would you do me the honor, of  _fucking_   _the living daylights_  out of me?"

Sam was coughing immediately, spluttering on embarrassment and amusement. Gabriel took it in good grace, wings curling to latch onto Sam's shoulders.

"Came on too strong?" Gabriel's smile was infectious, and Sam found himself smiling back, amusement winning over embarrassment. "I meant it when I said I was going to climb you, Sam."

Sam was suddenly helpless with laughter, hit by the silliness of it all. "So, what, you just see me,  _shirtless_  and that's it?" he managed to gasp between breaths.

Tugging Sam closer with his wings, Gabriel moved in for the kill, rising up on his toes. Tilting his face up, he dragged Sam down with a firm hand on the back of the human's neck. Surprisingly, the kiss was gentle, just a smooth press of lips against each other.

"Yeah. That's pretty much it," Gabriel breathed as he pulled away.

Sam stared down at him with wide eyes, and Gabriel waited, looking up at him expectantly. The angel's thumb rubbed circles against the skin of Sam's neck as his damp wings slid along Sam's arms, and the taller man shivered slightly.

"You're serious," Sam whispered, in awe that an angel would actually even consider something like that with a human.

With  _him._

Gabriel leaned up to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. "For once. It doesn't happen often, so relish it, kiddo."

And for once, Sam did. He didn't overthink anything, worry about consequences or responsibilities. Gabriel wanted him.

And weirdly enough, he wanted Gabriel.

The angel yelped as Sam hoisted him up, laughing as Sam nipped his ear. His wings flapped once, and using the momentum, Gabriel wrapped his legs around Sam's hips, strong thighs pressing in tightly.

Huh. Gabriel wasn't lying about being naked.

Gabriel kissed him with no reservations, open mouthed and eager. Sam responded in kind, biting Gabriel's lip playfully as he splayed his hands across the curve of Gabriel's ass.

"Come on Sam-I-am," the angel whispered, eyes molten gold. "For  _science._ "

Sam laughed breathlessly, grunting as Gabriel's fingers trailed down his chest, fingers pulling impatiently at the waistband of his soaked briefs. "Seriously? For science?"

Gabriel pulled back, wrinkling his nose thoughtfully. "Okay, maybe not for science. I don't want you scribbling down notes while you're fucking me. Paper cuts are a  _bitch_."

Sam found his roar of laughter bitten off into the heated cavern of Gabriel's mouth, the waistband of his underwear pinging against his skin with a flare of pain as the two of them slipped, tumbling into the cloudy water with a splash.

 

* * *

 

The suns were setting, hurtling a blaze of reds and purples across the pale sky. A flock of Rageba moved by, dark splashes against the fiery sky as they noisily called to one another. The late day air was still humid, a heavy weight that sat in Sam's lungs as he sprawled along the bank of the pond, limbs boneless. His damp hair curled against his cheeks as he gazed upwards, Gabriel pressed up against his side with one leg flung across Sam's. The angel's wings were spread beneath them, a feather pillow to protect them from the rough earth.

Sam ran his fingers against the feathers beneath his arm and Gabriel shifted, arching his back happily.

"I was right," the angel said smugly, drumming his fingers on Sam's stomach. "They  _do_  grow 'em big on Earth."

Sam chuckled, tugging a cluster of feathers playfully. Gabriel yelped, raising his head to glower good naturedly.

"Nothing can shut you up can it?" Sam reached out to brush a strand of wet hair from Gabriel's forehead. "You and your big mouth."

There was a wicked gleam in Gabriel's eye as he leant forward to nip at Sam's lips, soothing the sting with his tongue. "Well maybe not  _nothing._  I can think of a certain  _something_ that could certainly keep said big mouth busy."

Heat flushed along his skin, nerves tingling where Gabriel's fingers touched. But Sam merely tugged the angel back down with a smile. They lay together, looking up at the colorful sky as birds squawked in the trees, insects happily buzzing in the bushes.

"Her name was Jess," Sam blurted suddenly, disturbing the silence. Gabriel cocked his head curiously, and Sam struggled on. "She was, she was my everything for a lot of years."

Gabriel rose onto one arm, listening. Taking that as an invitation to continue, Sam swallowed, still staring at the sky.

"She got me through some tough times, encouraged me to do well in school. She, she made me a better man."

Gabriel nodded. "Why did you leave her?"

Sam sighed. "I, I didn't. I wanted her to come with me, but she said no. I think, I think she knew I wanted to go somewhere she couldn't really follow."

The insects hummed quieter, and Gabriel's feathers were comforting beneath him. It felt natural to speak to Gabriel like this, to share something personal. "She knew this was my dream. She wanted me to achieve it."

Gabriel trailed his fingers along Sam's arm. "She sounds like quite the lady."

"She was," Sam turned his head to look at the angel, following the lines of the face he had come to know so intimately. He reached over to touch Gabriel's cheek. "I'll always love her. But I feel ready to move on too. I, I think you have something to give me she couldn't."

Gabriel brightened at that, eyes sparking with mischief. "A dick?" he asked brightly.

Sam's laughter was high and carefree, rising above the trees. Angels further away heard it and glanced towards the forest with curiosity before shaking their heads and continuing their work.

Using his larger size, Sam rolled the angel beneath him, pinning Gabriel's wrists. The angel buffeted him playfully with his wings but made no attempt to free himself.

"I'm glad you're here Sam," he admitted quietly, and there was a vulnerability hidden there. "I really am."

Sam leant down to kiss him again, noses bumping together. "Me too, Gabriel."

When he pulled away, Gabriel sighed, struggling into a sitting position.

"I guess we should go get ready. Big night and all that."

Sam smiled as he watched the angel retrieve his clothes. "I've heard the Ne'gassagen can throw quite the party."

Gabriel slipped into his leggings, tying the lacings with quick, practiced movements. "Kid, you have  _no_ idea."

 

* * *

 

The suns had set, and the home tree was a bustle of activity in preparation for the ceremony. It was all the angels could talk about; a toltag being accepted into their tribe, and many cooking fires were aglow around the large tree. Every angel was preparing and excited.

All, except one.

Lucifer shoved plants aside irritably, moving further away from the home tree and the clan. The path he was following was hardly used, overgrown and crowded with grass. As the voices of his clan eventually faded, he grew more nervous, his wings twitching sporadically. Lucifer did not enjoy travelling on the ground, but he had little choice. To use a Levithmong would raise suspicion and this was a task that required the utmost secrecy. If Michael were to discover him…

The forest grew darker around him. It was with a great sense of relief when he reached the clearing. The trees had been cleared by humans many years ago and had never regrown. Lucifer sneered at the short stumps that remained, trailing his fingers along the blistered bark.

Humans. Ruined everything they touched.

Squatting in the middle of the clearing, metallic and burnt, was the hollowed out shell of a research lab. It was an outpost the humans had once used years ago, when running to and from their large complex had grown too wearying. Now it lay decaying, forgotten and discarded.

A familiar guilt rose in his belly as he looked at it, hot and fierce, and Lucifer glanced away, drawing his wings close.

Was he here? Perhaps Lucifer had read the signs wrong, and he hadn't been summoned. Perhaps he could finally escape the cursed-

"So. You finally decide to make an appearance."

A figure moved in the darkness, a shadow that separated from the hollow metal husk of the lab. Even in the dim light, Lucifer could see those awful eyes.

"I got your message," he ground, hating how quickly he had come, like an eager Levithmong ready to please its master. "But we agreed-"

"The rules have changed." White teeth grinned at him from the shadows, and Lucifer's skin crawled.

He puffed his wings irritably, folding his arms defensively across his chest. The air was cool, made all that colder by the ghosts of the past that still remained in the clearing, brushing their dead fingers along the angel's skin. If Lucifer listened closely, he could still hear the crackling of a fire, the screaming of a trapped woman and the worried shouts of his own father.

"I helped you once," Lucifer hissed angrily, though his voice was hushed. "And you promised me that was the last of it, that once she died-"

"And you got what you wanted didn't you?"

The yellow eyes danced, corrupt and demanding.

"The power your father had fell to your brother. With no offspring, you will rule after him. Huzzah, celebrations all around."

Lucifer bared his teeth, wings jerking. The night was growing darker, and the figure seemed to fade from view.

"It was never my intention for Father to die as well!" he spat venomously. "If I had known what you were truly planning, I would not,  _could_  not-"

The figure shrugged, rustling in the dark. "Consider it a bonus. A little,  _freebie_."

"No," Lucifer's voice rang out in the clearing, and the breeze whistled through the dead husk beside them. "No more. I will not help you."

There was a sigh. "Well that's a darn shame."

Lucifer had not known of the existence of demons until the humans had come. He had not known of concepts such as  _deceit,_ or  _evil._  Now he felt tainted, as if somehow the knowledge had wormed its way beneath his skin and rotted him from within. Made him less of what he was.

The humans had ruined everything.

Lucifer spat out a curse, turning and intending to walk away to leave the dreadful place, along with the terrible creature that demanded awful things of him.

"I'm sure Michael would be pretty glad to hear that," the figure drawled. "Wait a minute, he  _does_  know doesn't he? I suppose that would be a  _real_  shock if he didn't."

Lucifer stopped, and his chest tightened. "You wouldn't."

There was a dark chuckle behind him, the brush of a finger across his trembling wings.

"I don't think you  _really_ understand this little set up we have."

The finger turned into a fist, twisting into his feathers viciously and Lucifer bit down on his tongue, drawing blood. A pained grunt rattled in his throat, but he stood perfectly still, not daring to pull away. A feather snapped, another tearing free, and Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut.

"Now, let me tell you how we do this, pigeon."

He could feel the dark tendrils of the creature behind him, could feel the shards of hatred and evil sear into his wings. Lucifer wondered if the very same slick corruption sat heavy in his own soul.

"I say jump, you ask how high. I say  _kill_ -"

Lucifer whined low in his throat as fingers dug into the sensitive joint of his left wing. "You ask how many. And if you don't, I let your little clan know just  _who_  was behind their beloved leader's death."

Lucifer was released, and he stood there shaking, teeth grinding together.

"Perhaps I do not care if you tell Michael," he finally said boldly, wings twitching as there was a forced bark of laughter from the shadows.

"Oh there are worse things I could do than just  _tell_ him," the figure was moving away now, towards the empty outpost. Violence was promised in its voice. "You really want to test me? Want to see how far I'll go?"

Lucifer's wings slumped with defeat. If there was one thing that frightened him more than Michael knowing what he had done, it was something happening to  _Michael._

The figure knew it had won. Lucifer was left in the clearing, listening to the dark laughter of a corrupt evil and the moaning whispers of past mistakes.

 

* * *

 

Dean shivered as cold clay dragged across his cheek. A group of older female angels surrounded him, drawing swirls and patterns onto his bare chest and face with a dyed thick goop that smelt strongly of herbs. The air was smoky and thick with the scent of incense, hollow wooden drums clanging over the excited murmurs of the gathered angels. His shirt and ID tags were back at the complex, folded carefully on his bed. He felt too naked without them, vulnerable and open.

An ancient angel, with tattered and dusty wings, slid her hand across his shoulder smearing the white clay across the faded print of Castiel's hand. Dean stiffened unhappily, but she nodded her hand wisely, clucking to him in Enochian as she drew further spirals down his bicep.

By the time Castiel finally made his way through the females, Dean was covered in the white flaky clay.

Dean flapped his arms uselessly, willing the paint to dry quicker as he mouthed an obvious  _save me_ towards the angel. The same ancient female at his arm swatted at him with her gnarled hands, scolding him with a creaky voice as her tattered wings shook. Castiel stifled a laugh, grabbing Dean by the elbow, carefully avoiding the paint.

"It is time Dean," the angel nodded towards the old ladies, and they shuffled away with mutters. "It is time to earn your place amongst the people."

Castiel was dolled up just like the other baltoh of the clan, with intricate wooden bracelets, beads and soft crème leggings. Various feathers in his wings were dyed, hues of blues, yellows and reds. Instead of white clay like Dean, Castiel wore dark blue, the goop dotted along his brow and cheeks in a spiral pattern.

Castiel led Dean through the tight throng of angels, towards the base of the home tree where Michael waited, Raphael at his side. The iadnamad was wearing a brightly colored plumage of feathers around her neck that draped down her chest, the same colors Castiel wore on his wings. Her face was anointed with the same paint Dean wore, flaking and white where it ringed her eyes and lips.

Michael was drab in comparison, his face painted much like the other baltoh. The only exception was his woven crown, barely visible in his dark hair as he bowed his head towards Dean.

Castiel paused in front of them, releasing Dean. The angel bowed towards his brother, murmuring a quiet greeting, before retreating off to the side where Gabriel stood. Dean could see Sam a little further away, smiling widely and eyes looking a little damp, the top of Bobby's head just visible beside him as the scientist strained to see the ceremony on his tiptoes.

"Dean Winchester," Michael rumbled, and Dean jerked in surprise as the angel spoke in English. "You have come before us today, to become a Ne'gassagen. The first time in our history that a toltag has joined our clan."

Dean had gone over this with Castiel. He dipped his head, eyes to the ground. "I am honored. Dorphal mirc ol lit nazarth."

Raphael smiled, paint crinkling around her eyes as she stepped down towards him. "The honor, brother, is ours."

Slowly she reached out to touch his shoulder, palm curving over the swell of his socket. Her hand was smaller than Castiel's, but she put it to the faded scar, tracing it almost reverently.

"You have spent time with us, learnt our ways and shown us that the toltag are honorable and proud, worthy of respect," Raphael murmured. "You have proven your worth, and have earned the right to join our clan. Do you agree to this? To become one of us, Geiad's own children?"

Dean swallowed nervously, glancing towards Castiel. The angel smiled, nodding slightly, and Dean took a deep breath.

"I do," he said solemnly, and Raphael squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. "I mean, yes."

Raphael nodded. "May Geiad guide your path with us, and keep you safe in her keeping. Let the clans know your name, and know that you are as much our brother, as we are your family."

Michael nodded, coming to stand beside Raphael. With a heavy hand, he touched Dean's other shoulder. "So it has been, and shall be ever more. Welcome, brother."

The angels around them began to shuffle inwards, murmuring the same phrase, and Dean held himself still as hands touched his shoulders and chest, all reverent and respectful.

Up until someone tweaked his nipple, and Dean spotted a pair of laughing gold eyes in the crowd.

"Well done," Gabriel winked at him, and Dean glared at him halfheartedly. "Welcome to our crazy little family!"

Another hand  _definitely_  just pinched his ass, and Dean wasn't at all surprised to see Balthazar emerge to join Gabriel.

"Cleans up good doesn't he?" the tall blonde chuckled, and the two angels shared leers. "If I'd known the muscles he was hiding under all that shirt-"

Castiel shoved them both aside forcefully, and the two disappeared back into the crowd with surprised squawks.

Dean smiled gratefully at him, as Castiel fitted his hand to the fading handprint on his shoulder, murmuring the welcome words quietly.

"So I guess I'm an angel now huh?" Dean joked. "When do I get my wings?"

Castiel pulled away, and Dean was struck by how,  _happy_ the angel looked.

"You are indeed an angel now. I am, how do you say," Castiel ducked his head self-consciously. " _Proud._  I am very proud of you, Dean."

A few weeks ago such an admission would have made him cringe. But now Dean merely laughed, slinging an arm around Castiel's shoulders.

"Well you better be, after all that crap you put me through," he jostled the smaller man affectionately. "Making me ride a Levithmong on the first day, Cas?  _Really_?"

Castiel laughed, winding his arm around Dean's back. "I was curious to see how you would react."

Dean could see Sam walking over with Bobby, both men looking a little moist around the eyes.

"You know what Cas?" Dean smiled, giving his brother a wave. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Dean didn't miss the angel's pleased smile. He gave Castiel another nudge, and grinned as Castiel responded by buffeting him with a wing.

Sam was sniffing as he approached, Bobby giving Dean a fatherly pat on the shoulder.

"Well done, son," the old scientist grinned. "You did good."

Dean disentangled from Castiel to give the man a brief hug. "Thanks, Bobby. Couldn't have done it without you."

Bobby laughed. "Or by gettin' lost all those weeks ago. Maybe we should go thank that cat monster huh?"

Sam wrapped Dean in a fierce hug, pulling away with a happy sigh. "Man, that was just,  _beautiful."_

He turned to Castiel then, grinning mischievously as he advanced on the angel with open arms. "I guess that makes you my new brother huh? Gotta live up to the Winchester name!"

Castiel accepted the hug graciously, shooting an amused smile towards Dean as Sam worked at smothering him completely. "Thank you, Samuel. I shall endeavor to meet your expectations."

Sam snorted. "You won't have to work too hard. Dean set the bar pretty low."

" _Hey!"_ Dean protested, and the other three laughed.

Gabriel bounced over, shooting Sam a huge smile before turning to Castiel.

"Alright baby bro. Let's get this party started before Michael drinks all the booze. You know how he gets at a party."

The elder baltoh punched Dean lightly on the arm, smiling. "I guess I'll have to start calling you baby bro number two or something. Wait, no, you and Castiel can be team double trouble!"

Balthazar guffawed, pushing Sam aside. "I'm going to lose track of how many brothers I have now. Angel, human, you're all equally annoying to me."

"Love you too," Dean shot towards him. "Now can we all go get drunk please? I've been through  _a lot_  today, wrangling beasts like three times my size and shit."

Balthazar clapped his hands. "A man after my own heart! Come on ducklings, Uncle Balthy will show you how it's  _done._ "

Castiel hung back to walk with Dean, knuckles brushing against the back of Dean's hand as they walked side by side. Gabriel and Balthazar led the way towards the Levithmong field, chattering excitedly to Sam and Bobby.

"I'm really glad I'm here, Cas," Dean sighed, feeling relaxed and content. Even the worry of Alistair and Azazel back at the base couldn't faze him right now. "Bobby's right, we gotta go thank that cat monster."

Castiel smiled. "I am glad also, Dean. But perhaps in the absence of the Vniglag, we should thank Geiad. I believe it was her who set you upon this path."

Dean felt the angel touch his hand softly, fingertips just ghosting across his skin.

"And I am most grateful," Castiel whispered.

Dean glanced towards the sky, up into the uppermost boughs of the home tree. Raising his fist solemnly, he fist bumped the stars.

"Right on, Geiad. Right on."

 

* * *

 

Well one thing was definitely true: the Ne'gassagen  _definitely_ knew how to party.

A large fire had been built in the Levithmong field, and angels danced around it, accompanied with primal wooden flutes and drums. The smell of roasting meat was strong in the air, food and drink laid out on the grass. Every angel of the clan was present. Dean could even see a sullen Lucifer goaded into a dance with a group of young angels. The sourpuss even managed a smile as a young girl stood on his bare feet to dance.

Bobby sat with Michael, the scientist already pretty drunk on the heady fruit drunk the Ne'gassagen served, arguing about the finer points of what sounded like,  _bowling._  Complete with awkward hand movements.

Gabriel had dragged Sam into an energetic dance, the angel's smaller form twirling and circling as he kicked up his feet and fluttered his wings. Sam looked awkward at first, towering above most of the merrymakers, but seemed to get into it once Gabriel sidled up to him, showing the human how to move with his hands and body.

Dean looked away, towards a large gaggle of women. Raphael was dancing in their midst, black hair wild and hips swaying to the music. Balthazar suddenly bowled into the group, sending most of the women scattering with giggles as he grabbed ahold of Raphael's hands, swinging her around. The iadnamad laughed, her usual stern look relaxed and joyful.

Castiel had tried to coax him to dance, but Dean just felt foolish, too ungraceful and coarse for something so fluid and graceful. Also, way too sober.

So now, Castiel danced alone, but never strayed far from where Dean sat. A few times Uriel bumbled into the dance ring, dark eyes staring intently at Castiel. But the younger angel always seemed to slip out of his grasp, disappearing into the crowd only to reemerge near Dean.

Dean stayed where he was, watching everyone. His skin was tight where the clay had cracked, and he scratched his arm idly, shooting smiles and nods at the angels that passed him and called out joyful words. His eyes seemed weighted though, always returning to Castiel without fail.

He was by far one of the most graceful angels currently dancing. Castiel spun and swayed with the best of them, spine flowing like water as he twisted to the beat. The fire glanced off his feathers, shimmering in the fire light like arching flames. The dye in his wings made the black stand out even more, the blue dotted on his pale face accenting his eyes. He looked so otherworldly that Dean didn't recognize him, couldn't see the quiet, sometimes grumpy angel he had spent so much time with.  _This_  Castiel was untamed and wild, free and primal and, well…

_Beautiful._

Dean jerked as Castiel suddenly stumbled towards him, and Dean saw the dark flash of Uriel nearby.

Castiel was smiling widely, eyes bright in the light as he took Dean's hand boldly.

"Come, Dean," he said softly, and Dean's heart lurched. "There is something I want to show you."

Dean didn't question him, dutifully getting to his feet and following the angel, away from the fire and celebrations. They moved towards the forest, so dark in comparison, and for a moment Dean paused, glancing back towards the fire, unsure.

Castiel sensed his hesitation, and squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly. "Trust me. Do you trust me, Dean?"

Sam was laughing, head thrown back and hair swinging wildly. Dean watched him for a moment, noticing how Gabriel slid in against his side, saw Sam throw his arm around the smaller man and tuck him close. Bobby was still gesturing wildly at Michael, and Dean could hear his gruff tones even over the loud chatter of the party.

His old family was safe, happy. It was okay to let them go, even if it was just for a little while.

Dean squeezed back, fingers tight around Castiel's.

"Always, Cas."

They slipped into the forest, leaving the safety of the home tree behind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

The forest was alive, plants blooming in splashes of neon blue as Castiel and Dean passed by. Dean had asked Sam about it once, why certain plants lit up at night, and the giant dork had babbled about bioluminescent chlorophyll, mechanisms Dean had no hope (or desire) to understand.

Dean grinned, reaching out to slap at a flat fern. Color burst across the plant's dark green pores, racing along the skin where his fingers had touched.

Castiel's palm pressed more firmly against Dean's, fingers just shy of intertwining.

"You are like a child," the angel chuckled, pulling Dean further into the forest. "So curious."

Dean laughed, and the plants around them seemed to quiver at the sound. "I remember you saying that to me when we first met. Not much has changed huh?"

The look Castiel gave him made his veins thrum.

"Much has changed," Castiel said quietly, eyes bright in the neon blue light. "That much I know."

The trees around them grew thicker, the vegetation harder to move through. Dean waded through the tall grass, the plants shimmering iridescent around his knees. He could feel a humming in the air, a faint buzz of electricity, and Dean felt his skin prickle at the sensation, the hairs along his arms stiffening.

"Cas?" he murmured uncertainly. The clay along his skin felt warm, crackling with an energy that hadn't been there before. Dean was reminded of riding Chevy, the strange otherworldly sensation of connecting to her.

Castiel's fingers squeezed his, the angel pushing aside a wall of veins. A flood of bright white light made Dean throw a hand up to his eyes, the humming rising in volume as he blinked the dark spots from his eyes.

 _It's a tree_ , he realized as his eyes adjusted to the glow. Thin and willow like, it rose high above them, tendrils of shimmering leaves cascading down towards the ground. They were like glittering silver lines, and the vines swayed towards the two men as they drew close.

Castiel was smiling, relaxed and happy as the strange tendrils found his wings, brushing along his dark feathers.

"Qaadah," the angel said softly, releasing Dean's hand to touch the vines. "The tree of souls."

Dean cautiously reached out to touch a strand with his finger, the tiny leaves along it shivering. Promptly they seemed to curve towards him, each individual bud trembling as the glowing vine molded around his finger. The hum in Dean's ear turned into voices, laughter and singing that he somehow automatically knew came from the past. From angels that had been.

"Our history," Castiel moved next to him, wings tucked primly against his back. He touched the vine reverently, the tree's glow dancing through his fingertips. "It is all contained within trees like this. All those who have passed and all those who will be."

Solemnly, he offered a different strand to Dean. Dean reached out to grasp it, the pads of his fingers warming as the leaves touched him, and he could suddenly hear his mother's lilting laughter, Castiel's rough tones. Dean drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

"My, mom?" he whispered, disbelieving.

Castiel nodded, brushing his dark hair away from his forehead. He smudged some of his blue face paint, and Dean tracked the movement.

"You are Ne'gassagen now, Dean." Castiel smiled. "Our history is  _your_  history."

The angel turned away then, wings unfolding to puff slightly. The tips of his long feathers trailed amongst the vines as he moved further within the tree, and the strands followed him, touching him as he passed. Dean followed numbly, heart pounding as voices of the past murmured around them.

"You may even choose a mate," Castiel continued, one wing twitching. "There are many that would provide you an honorable equal."

The voices swelled, clamoring over each other, and Dean felt the same odd awareness again. It curled in his mind, curious and bright. A presence that he knew wasn't there to harm him, but to give him  _knowledge_.

Castiel continued to walk, unaware of the stilted images and memories filtering through Dean's mind.

"Rachael is a good singer," Castiel said, and his wing clipped into a vein sharply. "Very beautiful."

The voices murmured in discontent, and Dean could see a wisp of an angel, dark skin and huge brown eyes. She was pretty, of course, in the way only angels could be.

But her eyes weren't quite right. Too brown, not the way Dean wanted them to be, clear and blue.

Dean shrugged, twirling a vine around one finger. "I don't want a singer, Cas."

The voices hummed happily, and Dean didn't miss Castiel's small pleased smile. The angel paused, wings spreading slightly. "Virgil is a good hunter."

The voices sighed unhappily at that, and Dean caught a glimpse of a tall stoic man with dark hair, smiling and handsome.

But his wings weren't right. Too light, dull and brown. They should be black, dark and shimmering.

Dean reached out, catching one of Castiel's long feathers. The angel stilled, and Dean traced it gently.

"I don't want a hunter," Dean said lowly, and the voices shouted to one another triumphantly. "I don't want just  _anyone_ , Cas."

Castiel turned to face him, eyes searching and nervous.

"Then who is it you want, Dean?" he murmured, hands fidgeting with the beads along his leggings. The angel was unsure, desperate to say something, but too afraid. "You would make a fine mate. Many would be honored to call themselves your equal."

The voices slipped away, retreating from Dean with hushed whispers, their work apparently done.

 _Getting set up by dead people_ , he chuckled to himself.  _Welcome to your life, Winchester._

Castiel wasn't looking at him, staring towards the ground. Dean stepped closer, heart pounding a heady beat against his ribs.

"Many, huh?" Dean smiled cockily, though he felt anything but. "You happen to be one of them?"

This was  _crazy_. What was he doing? This was Cas, his friend, his brother, his, his…

_Cas._

Castiel slowly looked up at him, wings arching behind him. In the glow of the tree framing his feathers and hair, he looked, well,  _angelic_.

"Yes," Castiel whispered, and the tree veins all seemed to sway towards him as one. "I, I, Dean, I think I lo-"

Dean was up against him in two paces, grabbing the angel's jaw firmly. Castiel fell silent, eyes wide as Dean rubbed his thumb along the rough stubble of the angel's cheek. Nervous puffs of air hit Dean's cheek, and he could feel the tell-tale trembling of Castiel's hands where they clutched at Dean's hips.

"Don't say that," Dean said lowly, voice shaking. "Don't you  _dare_  say that unless you mean it, you son of a-"

Castiel knocked his hands away, and before Dean could really process what was happening, was kissing him.

Cas. Was  _kissing him_.

For a moment, Dean froze in shock, feeling the angel's dry lips slide across his, desperate and wanting. This, this wasn't a dream. This was real.  _Real_  Cas was kissing him.

And it was  _awesome_.

Dean parted his lips, flicking his tongue cautiously against Castiel's closed ones, and the angel grunted in surprise, giving Dean the opportunity to slip inside.

Castiel tasted like Oadriax, alien and dangerous. He tasted like Earth, like the fields back in New Kansas. He tasted like Dean, and feelings, and  _home_.

Castiel melted against Dean as the human threaded his fingers into the angel's dark hair, tugging him closer. He was going to slide underneath Castiel's skin, push himself into every space and curve of the angel's body until there was nothing but them. There would be no angels, no demons, or humans. No hell, no heaven. Just the two of them.

Forever.

 

* * *

 

Castiel had listened to many of the tales the older females loved to tell one another when cooking.

He had listened to Gabriel's proud boasts, and Balthazar's rude tales.

He had seen courtship flights, and fights, and postures. He knew all there was to know about such things, but there was such a large difference between  _knowing_ and  _experiencing_.

_And what an experience it is._

"C'mon, Cas," Dean's voice rumbled against Castiel's ear, low and rough, full of fire and smoke and _sin_. "Let me in."

He hardly felt capable of movement, and Castiel jerked his wings, longing to comply. His feathers were damp with sweat and flaking dye, sliding against Dean's bare chest where he pressed along Castiel's back. Castiel's felt boneless, his skin too hot and tight as Dean mouthed the back of his neck, teeth just shy of biting.

A knee nudging his bare thighs apart made Castiel shudder, hands holding him open and baring his body to the cool night air. Castiel arched his back, hips already shifting to accommodate the weight of Dean as he pressed the angel into the soft earth beneath them.

Castiel's sweat-dampened hair stuck to his forehead as he panted into the moist air, face twisting with pleasure as Dean slid his tortuous way inside him again. Castiel had lost count of their couplings, so many, yet not enough, never enough. Blood boiled in his veins as he urged Dean on with undulations of his hips, small wounded grunts forced from his throat with each thrust.

Dean was gasping against the nape of Castiel's neck, each hot gust of air in perfect time with the drive of his hips. But the human was tiring, just as Castiel was, Dean's arms shaking as they wrapped around Castiel's chest. His thrusts grew shallower, merely rocking deeply into Castiel as the angel gritted his teeth against the onslaught of sensation that raced along his skin, the fire that coiled low in his gut.

The Qaadah rose above them both, glittering leaves caressing their bare skin as they mated. As others had done before them.

Castiel dug his fingers into the dark dirt, seeking to anchor himself to the moment, the feeling. If he could only keep ahold of this memory, perhaps it would never end. Perhaps they could stay this way forever.

It was futile. Dean pulled the angel's head back with one gentle hand, lips sliding slickly on the exposed column of Castiel's throat as he thrust into the angel harder, pushing them both towards the edge.

Castiel could never escape Dean, never truly wanted to. Dean would only have to utter it, and Castiel would give him anything. He would give him the moon and stars if he could, Oadriax and Geiad herself, if the human only asked it of him.

He was utterly, and completely, lost. Had been the first time he had seen the human stumbling through the forest, helpless when he had placed his hands upon the human and given him life.

Completely fallen, when he had witnessed Dean's dreams and heard his fears.

His body welcomed Dean's touch, skin burning where Dean's fingertips dug into his hips, where his lips mouthed along the line of his throat.

He would give anything to Dean. His body, his malprigzch, his life.

Pinned by Dean's weight, Castiel's wings still fluttered to the beat of Dean inside of him. The glow from the Qaadah framed Dean's face as he pulled back to bite out a curse, and Castiel dropped his face back onto his braced forearms, fixing the image in his mind. Their union would be forever sealed into the Qaadah, to display to all, and Castiel felt a swell of pride.

Dean's movements grew quicker, more desperate. Castiel's tired arms gave out, but strong arms slid under him, lifting him up, as Dean's hips cleaved him open from behind. Castiel's wings fell slackly on either side of the human as Dean pulled the angel onto his lap, groaning as Castiel arched with pleasure.

Pinning one arm across the angel's chest, Dean's other hand grabbed blindly for Castiel's wing, fingers tangling in the black feathers and yanking him towards a precipice. Castiel could see the fall, felt himself stumbling along its edge, and he opened his eyes, gazing up at the glowing tree around them.

"Dean," his voice was strained, gasping and so unlike him. "Dean, I-"

"Yes," Dean's voice hissed in his ear, demanding and confident. The human's fingers tugged hard as Dean pushed upwards with his hips, and Castiel was gone. He fell, unraveling as he spiraled into ecstasy. Enochian tumbled from his lips, punched from his lungs with each push of Dean against him.

He promised the human everything, a life, a family. He confessed his love with sharp syllables and guttural vowels.

Dean did not understand, but he would in time.

They were mated. They had an eternity together.

Castiel opened his glazed eyes to look upwards. Dean's head was thrown back, his throat quivering with pleasure as he gasped his release into the air, and for a brief moment, Castiel thought he could see the shadows of Dean's wings.

 

* * *

 

The screams seemed muted, less horrific as Dean ran through the smoke, gun creaking in his hands. He felt light, hardly caring when a demon tried to lash out at him, just destroying the creature with a smile. He didn't care about this nightmare anymore.

Because he wasn't facing it alone.

"Should've told me you were dropping by," Dean said flippantly, hoisting his gun across one shoulder. "I would've cleaned the place up a little."

Castiel landed amidst the carnage, but the angel's gaze was serious. Huh, that made a weird change from their usual make out dream sessions.

"You showed me your father, once," Castiel said quietly. "In light of,  _certain events_ , I would like to show you something as well."

Dean felt a slight flare of curiosity. As far as dreams went, even with his weird ones, this was out of the ordinary.

"I, uh," Dean came to a stop, boots splashing in the muck. Well what the hell, he had just had sex with  _real_  Cas, what harm would humoring  _dream_  Cas do?

"Okay." Dean tilted his helmet back with a wink. "Alright, Cas. What did you have in mind?"

With a smile that made Dean's heart lurch, Castiel reached out to press two fingers against Dean's sweaty forehead. His stomach staggered sideways, the world spinning in a mess of colors as he seemed to hurtle through time and space.

But just as quickly, it was over.

Dean blinked in the bright sunlight, recognizing the green clearing that stretched around him. It was the place Cas had once dragged him to practice archery, though the vegetation was smaller, more cared for.

A woman sat amongst the flowers, her long blonde hair glinting in the sun. She wore a simple brown strap top and khaki's, and she sat cross-legged, peering up at the sky, shielding her eyes with one hand.

_Mary._

Dean's lungs felt ripped from his chest, his heart barely beating. It had been so long he had forgotten what she had looked like, the color of her skin, the shape of her face. Her golden hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, one cheek smudged with mud. She looked a part of the forest, a siren of Oadriax, and Dean took a step forward, longing to call out to her.

A young angel was with her, a boy probably in his teens. He lay on his back, dark wings spread beneath him as he rested his head in Mary's lap. Mary ran her fingers through his dark hair as they both gazed up towards the sky, speaking quietly.

"They're out there, Castiel," she spoke, and Dean jerked at her voice. "My sons."

_Cas._

_Of course_ , Dean could see his eyes now, the color of his wings. Cas was smaller here, not as defined and his face rounder, but it was him.

Mary looked down at young-Cas with a smile. "I bet Sam's probably around your age by now. In human years that is."

Dean circled the two, hands shaking. They couldn't see him, he knew that. This was just a dream, a glimpse into something that wasn't real.

Cas craned his face to look up at Mary. "Do you miss them?"

Mary exhaled shakily, fingers still stroking through Cas's hair. Much as she had once done to Dean, so many years ago. "Yes. Very much."

Cas seemed to mull that over, frowning slightly. It was so very  _Cas_  that Dean almost laughed. "Why did you leave if you miss them so much?"

Mary paused at the question, fingers stilling and Dean held his breath, not wanting to miss a second.

"It, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time," Mary said slowly. She dropped her eyes back down to Castiel, and suddenly smiled, fingers darting to tickle the angel. "And I found you!"

Cas laughed loudly, squirming as his pinned wings flapped uselessly. The feathers looked softer, tufts of baby down still clinging to the emerging sleek black pin feathers.

"I'm glad you're here," the young angel said happily, and Dean's chest constricted. "Do you, do you think I'll meet them some day?"

Mary smiled, fingers resuming their gentle exploration of Cas's scalp. "Maybe. One day, perhaps."

"Mary!"

A strange voice called out, and Cas jerked, scrambling out of Mary's lap. His wings jerked self-consciously as a male angel materialized out of the trees, striding towards the two with assured steps.

Dean didn't recognize him. He was powerfully built like Michael, with a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes. His golden brown hair reminded Dean of Gabriel, his easy smile reminiscent of Balthazar. His wings were a glorious white, large and well groomed, and they flexed slightly as the angel halted in front of the two in the clearing.

"Father," Cas cleared his throat, wringing his hands. "I wasn't gone for long, I just. Mary was telling me-"

The male angel smiled, one pristine wing butting the youngster under the chin. "Yet another fledgling I have lost to your charms, Mary?"

Dean's mother laughed, and Dean scrambled to remember the sound, to file it away in memory. "Zachariel, I'm sorry to keep your son. I always seem to get a bit lost in my stories."

Cas's father chuckled. "As always. Castiel."

Young Cas straightened, wings flared. His father smiled at him indulgently, ruffling his hair with a broad hand. "Seek out Gabriel, my son. I believe he said something about 'getting back at Balthazar', and he needed assistance."

Obediently, Cas nodded and hurried away. To the two adults, it looked as if he had left, but Dean could see the young angel hang back, darting behind a bush.

Trust Cas to not do what he was told.

Mary rose, dusting her legs down. She smiled, and Dean saw the sparkle in her eyes. There had been a time she had looked at John like that. At  _Dean_.

"To what do I owe the honor, Zachariel?"

The angel paused in front of her, crossing his arms seriously.

"My older sons have warned me of you for years, Dr. Campbell. Lucifer in particular seems to think you are a,  _bad influence_." There was a smile playing around the angel's lips, a sense of humor despite his pretend sternness.

Marry huffed, rolling her eyes. "I've been teaching Lucifer since he was a little pudgy thing with stubby wings. If he spent more time  _studying_  during my classes instead of coming up with wild stories, then he might actually be as good as Michael at English. Or, Geiad forbid, _Gabriel_."

Zachariel chuckled, shaking his head. He reached out to take one of Mary's hands in his, and Dean bristled.

"Lucifer is much like his mother, Geiad keep her soul safe," he murmured. "No Mary, I needed to speak to you alone. I have heard some, troubling news."

Mary looked up at him at that, squeezing the angels hand reassuringly. "I've heard the news at the base. But the war on Hel is over. I hardly think we're in any danger here-"

Zachariel shook his head impatiently. "That is not what I meant. You know of whom I speak."

Mary sighed, pulling away from the angel. "Azazel. You're still worried about him?"

"Not about  _him_ ," Zachariel took a step forward, and his wings shifted uneasily. "I have seen the way he looks at you Mary. There is evil in him, and I fear for _you_."

"I can take care of myself," she ground stubbornly, and Dean managed a smile.  _That_  was the mother he remembered.

Zachariel seemed less amused. "Of that, I do not doubt. But he is not like us, Mary. I sense," the angel frowned unhappily. "I sense a great deal of suffering and hatred within him, and it is tied to you. I do not want to see you hurt."

Mary smiled, her eyes soft and understanding. "I know," she murmured, stepping closer. "He scares me. I know he monitors everything I do."

She dropped her arms helplessly, and Dean caught the pained look in her eyes. "I haven't dared call home, in case that yellow bastard is listening in. Even when I found out John-"

She trailed off. Clearing her throat, she shook her head. "But there's not a whole lot I can do. I just try and stay out of his way."

Mary suddenly shimmered, the clearing dissolving as Dean looked around wildly.

 _No!_  He, he had to see more, had to find out what had  _happened_.

But the dream was dissolving, colors swirling into grey as Dean was yanked sideways again. He could still see young Cas through the chaos, just visible through the trees.

The angel had been hiding in the bush eavesdropping, but he had been discovered. A younger looking Balthazar had erupted from the foliage, dragging his brother away from his hiding place.

As Mary and Zachariel faded from view, Dean suddenly understood what was happening, why this seemed so real and odd. It wasn't a dream he had been watching.

It was a  _memory_.

Everything slipped away, and Dean was cast into darkness.

 

* * *

 

When he came to, crouched low and lungs heaving, Dean recognized the pier from the first dream Castiel had taken him to. A younger version of Dean and Sam still sat at the end of the wooden pier, fishing for eternity in the crystal clear water.

Castiel materialized beside him, the right Castiel this time, with stubble and grave eyes.

"She was the closest thing to a mother I had ever known," the angel admitted. "That, that was the last time I saw her."

Dean didn't even question what was happening, how the angel seemed so self-aware in what should be a dream. He got to his feet, stomach churning. "What happened, Cas? How did she die?"

Castiel shrugged unhappily, looking out towards the young boys at the end of the pier. "I wish I could give you that knowledge, Dean. I merely know that she was working in one the labs and there was a fire."

His wings puffed sadly. "My father tried to save her. He, perished as well."

Dean remembered the male angel, Zachariel. He felt a surge of gratitude towards the angel he had never known, gratitude that at least, Mary hadn't died alone.

He managed a weak smile, bracing himself against one of the scratchy wooden poles of the pier. "Mom always used to say angels were watching over us. I guess she was right huh?"

Castiel looked towards him. "I suppose she was. She was a wonderful woman, Dean. I miss her greatly."

Dean glanced away. All those years of wondering why his mother had left, and all that time she had found another family. Another son.

The angel took a step forward, reaching out to take Dean's hand in his. "I wanted you to see her again, if only for a minute. That is my gift to you, as small as it is."

Dean stared down at their clasped hands. It had hurt, to see her. To see her so happy without them. Without  _Dean._

Castiel was looking at him anxiously, worried.

Dean couldn't hate him. Couldn't hate Mary, as much as he wanted to. Dean had fallen for the same things on Oadriax his mother had, the same angels and life. Earth could never truly compare to it.

Dean couldn't blame her for leaving. Not when this was out there waiting for her. Dean was just grateful he had found the same happiness she had.

Dean pulled Castiel close, dragging the angel into a deep kiss that he hoped got his true feelings across.

_Thank you. I'm sorry._

When he pulled away, Castiel's eyes were glazed, lips swollen. Dean touched his cheek.

"You're really here aren't you?" he asked quietly. "This isn't just a weird dream. You're really  _here_. Have been all along."

Castiel avoided his eyes. "It is a talent few of us have. We call it  _maninsi_. Mind walking. It is,  _frightening,_  to my siblings. They do not understand it."

Dean snorted. "I don't think I really do either."

Castiel moved closer, and Dean opened his arms automatically. The angel tucked his face into the safety of Dean's neck, wings folding around them.

"When I saved your life, I created a bond," Castiel murmured against Dean's throat, hand sliding to Dean's shoulder. The mark was fading, more and more each day as a different bond was forged between them. "It was unintentional but, I do not regret it."

Dean chuckled, cheek resting against the angel's wild hair. "So all this time we were making out and shit in my dreams, then dancing around each other during the day…"

Castiel stiffened, expecting anger. Maybe Dean  _should_  be angry, but he couldn't find it within himself. Instead he only felt relief. Relief that Cas had really  _seen_  all the skeletons in Dean's closet, and hadn't cared.

Dean laughed, squeezing Castiel tighter. "We could have been having awesome alien sex for  _weeks_ , Cas!"

"My apologies," Castiel grinned against his collarbone. "I suppose we will have much to catch up on."

Dean nodded resolutely, giving the angel's wings a playful smack. "You bet your ass, angel boy. I am gonna, - _mmph_!"

Castiel cut him off with a kiss, and Dean arched an eyebrow, pulling away slightly. "So that's how it's going to be? You just kiss me whenever you want me to shut up?"

Castiel smiled at him, bright and genuine. "I will kiss you every moment I can, Dean Winchester."

Dean spluttered, embarrassed, and the angel pressed a chaste kiss against Dean's cheek.

"As they say on Earth," Castiel smirked. " _Deal with it_."

Dean's laughter seemed as part of the sunny lake as the boys at the pier, the man's happiness a tangible weight in the air as Castiel tried to kiss the life out of him.

 

* * *

 

Dean jerked awake, the pier dissolving before him as the ground shuddered beneath his cheek. A deep metallic whine whumped through the air above them, and with a bitten off curse Dean scrambled to all fours. Above him, a shadow blotted out the morning sun, hanging heavy and ugly in the blue sky.

Castiel was already awake, dragging on his leggings as he stared up at the sky with horror, the blue paint smudged across his cheeks from Dean's lips. The angel's wings were a mess of white powder, from Dean's ceremony paint.

"Dean, the sky," Castiel gasped. "It's, it's  _monstrous._ "

Dean grabbed his jeans, hopping into them awkwardly. He recognized the heavy craft rolling by overhead, the logo that caught the sun along the hull.

A Roman Enterprises B-class warbird. She squatted in the sky, a mess of ugly dull metal. Birds went scattering from the canopy as she flew overhead, and Dean recognized the swell of her cargo hold, knew exactly what type of ship she was.

A destroyer. Her cargo could fit over twenty explosive missiles. Just a few could level a city.

Dean yanked his jeans on all the way, stumbling amongst the now silent tendrils of the tree.

"That's a warbird Cas!" he shouted, grabbing his boots. "She has enough fire power to take out  _cities_ , let alone a forest!"

The angel got to his feet, wings jerking worriedly as he stared up at the dark sky. "It is not alone."

Other shapes glinted in the sun, droning loudly behind and alongside the hulking warbird. Helicrafts by the look of them, a whole battalion of ill intent.

But why were they  _here?_ Dean thought wildly, jamming his feet into his boots. He still had another month before his time was up, Crowley had assured him of that, and the red eyed demon was one of the few who could authorize the crafts to fly. Him and-

Dean froze.  _Of course_.

"Azazel," Dean spat, glaring venomously at the huge craft as she moved by. "That slimy bastard!"

Castiel eyed the sky worriedly. "Dean, they're heading for the home tree. They're, Geiad help us, they're heading  _for the home tree!_ "

The angel took off, shoving the veins aside as he ran into the forest. Dean swore, taking off after him and struggling to keep up. The craft were moving slow overhead, and Dean raced behind Castiel's disappearing shape in an attempt to stay ahead of them. Leaves slapped against their arms, flowers crushed beneath their pounding feet.

The buzz of the helicraft had roused the angels sleeping around the home tree, all sluggish and hung-over from the party the night before. As Dean and Castiel cleared the forest, Dean spotted Sam in the stirring crowd, looking around in confusion as Gabriel uncurled from his side.

Castiel ran forward, arms waving.

"Michael!" he shouted. "Michael there-"

His shout was drowned out by the whirring of the warbird as she swung into view overhead, and the angels shrieked , most scrambling towards the safety of the home tree. Dean was swept up in the panic, losing sight of Castiel until the angel grabbed his arm, tugging him aside with him.

"Dean why are they here?" Castiel was as scared as the rest of them, and Dean could only shake his head dumbly as the angel pulled him towards the safety of the tree.

"I, I don't know, Cas!"

All the angels pressed into the cavity of the tree, shouting and crying out in alarm. Sam pushed his way through the crowd, squeezing in beside Dean.

"What the hell is going on, Dean?" his brother asked, Bobby stumbling behind. "What the hell are our craft  _doing_  here?"

Bobby glanced out towards the foreboding sky.

"This can't mean nothin' good," the scientist muttered worriedly, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Crowley would've never authorized this, it's gotta be Az-"

"Silence! Brothers and sisters,  _please_!"

Michael's voice boomed out, even over the whirring outside, and the angels fell quiet, turning towards their leader desperately.

"The humans!" one cried out. "They've come to kill us!"

"Hush," Raphael growled, alighting beside her mate along the stairs. "Such  _nonsense_. The humans mean us no ill will."

Lucifer struggled to the head of the crowd, glaring up at Michael with contempt. "Do you see now brother? The humans have signaled their machines to destroy us!"

He turned to point accusingly towards Dean, eyes glittering with malice. "They were sent as _spies_ , to destroy and corrupt us from within!"

Several angels cried out in agreement, and Dean felt a flare of panic as he was jostled. It was Castiel who put an end to it, snapping his wings out and pushing his brethren away from the humans.

"Silence!" he roared, and the angels around him stared. "I do not believe that, and you do not either!"

Lucifer sneered over at him, shoving several angels away with his wings. "What does the abomination know?  _Look_  at you Castiel, covered in filth. You took the human to the Qaadah! You are as much as traitor as he is!"

Curious eyes all turned towards them, and Dean cringed, aware of what he and Castiel must look; Dean's paint smudged all down the angel's wings, Castiel's blue face paint smudged across Dean's throat and chest.

He might as well wear a glaring sign stating: **Totally banged your brother**.  **Sorry.**

Uriel looked furious, wings shaking as he shoved through the crowd. Castiel didn't back down, tilting his chin upwards furiously as he stared Lucifer down.

"I have nothing to say to you," he ground. "My life is my own. Dean is a Ne'gassagen. He would not harm us."

"Lies!" Lucifer spat, wings arching. Dean's stomach dropped as the blonde stared right at him, self-assured and sneering.

"He is no warrior, Castiel. He is a  _marine_. A brainless soldier who receives orders from a demon!"

There were angry murmurs then. There was no love lost between the angels and the few demons they had encountered.

Lucifer smiled cruelly. "He follows orders, Castiel. And his  _orders_ were to infiltrate our home and destroy us!"

The angry muttering grew louder. Castiel's wings twitched, but he stayed where he was. "I do not care about your hatred for humans, Lucifer!" he shouted back. "Dean is one of us, he would not destroy us!"

"Oh is that so, little brother?" Lucifer laughed. "If you're so sure, ask him! Ask him what the demon has asked him to do!"

"I do not need to!" Castiel fired back, and Dean felt a surge of pride. "I  _trust_  Dean."

Lucifer snorted. "As our Father trusted Mary?"

There was a ripple of gasps all around them, and Dean heard Bobby mutter a low curse. Lucifer advanced on Castiel, triumphant.

"Ask him, Castiel. Ask him if he follows orders from the very same demon who helped  _kill our father_."

There was an outcry now, angels speaking out together, a chorus of mistrust and unease. Castiel was shaking, but stayed where he was as Lucifer advanced.

"You know  _nothing_ ," Castiel ground, eyes furious. "Father died saving Mary from a fire. It was honorable and-"

Lucifer laughed, a vicious and hateful sound. "Honorable? Our father was  _murdered_  and you are following him down the same path!"

The elder baltoh leaned forward, into Castiel's face, noses almost brushing. Castiel froze, his wings stock still.

"Your,  _human,_  was ordered to infiltrate us to gain our trust," Lucifer said lowly. "Then he would make us move, so the humans could harvest their precious mineral. Ask him, Castiel. Prove me wrong."

Angry shouts rang out, angels arguing with one another. Dean was frozen to the spot as Castiel slowly turned, his eyes devastated as he searched Dean's face.

"Dean," the angel's voice trembled and Dean felt like curling up in a ball and dying. "Dean, tell me this isn't true."

"I, I," Words deserted him. Azazel's laughing eyes danced in front of Dean's own, triumphant and cruel.

" _Dean!_ " Castiel's voice was anguished, and the angel reached forward to grab his shoulders. "Tell me it isn't true!"

His hesitation was all the confirmation Lucifer needed. The angel turned away with a loud cry, arms thrown high.

"They'll kill us all!" Lucifer shouted, fanning the flames of panic that spread through the crowd. "We have to run, escape while we can!"

"Wait!" Sam shouted over the din as Dean stood there dumbly, staring at Castiel. "There's been some mistake. Just, just let us talk to them-"

"Enough!" Michael bellowed, wings beating the air in an attempt to gain order. "If this is true, we must move the clan, move them tow-"

There was a sudden crackle of static, and a group of young angels began crying as a loud voice cracked over an intercom from above.

" _Attention all angels. Clear the vicinity. This tree has been claimed by the Roman Enterprise and will be demolished. I repeat, clear the vicinity_."

Bobby looked furious, jaw clenched and eyes wild.

"I'm gonna  _kill him_ ," he growled. "That back stabbin', yellow eyed son of a bitch, I'm gonna kill-"

Something metallic clinked just outside the tree and Sam craned his head over the crowd to see, gently pushing several angels out of the way. His eyes suddenly widened.

"Smoke bombs!" he yelled, already starting to push the angels around him towards the exit. " _Everybody out_ , smoke bo-"

 

* * *

 

Azazel blew on his steaming mug of coffee, grinning down at the scene below. The smoke bombs had the desired effect, sending the angels spilling out onto the grass around their precious home tree, coughing.

So pathetic. Little savages who clung to an ancient way of life that had no place in the new world. His eyes trailed across the flood of angels that poured from the tree, sharp eyes searching for one figure in particular.

"Say it again," he ordered, and the pilot nodded, repeating the warning over the intercom. Azazel could see Bobby Singer waving up at him, face twisted and mouth wide. Shouting no doubt. The man was always shouting.

Azazel took another sip of his coffee, relishing the hot burn against his tongue. He thought about radioing back to base to see how Alistair was doing, but found he couldn't care less. Whether the black eye managed to do his part of the plan or not, was of little consequence.

Azazel had bigger fish to fry.

"Well," he leant forward to smile down at the confused creatures below. "I guess they don't want to move."

The black eyed pilot twisted in his harness. "Sir?"

"Fire, Captain," the black eye hesitated, and Azazel's eyes flashed. "I gave you an order.  _Fire_."

Slowly, the demon nodded. "Yes, sir. Ready all units, commencing incineration sequence in five…four…"

Azazel leant back, smiling.

Winchester wouldn't know what hit him. Not until Azazel wanted him to. Hopefully that little  _shit_ Lucifer had done his part, and by the looks of the panicked crowd below, he had.

Awesome.

Azazel chuckled, clapping a hand to the wincing pilot's shoulder.

"Let's get this party  _started!_ "

 

* * *

 

For a stupid moment, Dean thought maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this was just another fucked up dream of his that he'd wake up from any minute, and laugh about with Cas later.

The first missiles tore into the main tree trunk, chunks of bark splintering into lethal shards. A blast of heat rolled over them all, the initial shockwave flinging them backwards. Fledglings were screaming. Adults shouted as black smoke spewed from the tree, flames licking along the ancient bark.

Angels in the nests above perished instantly, though some managed to escape the fires and take to the skies before the second round of missiles tore into the tree. The earth rumbled with shock, the home tree creaking and crackling as fire engulfed it whole. A slew of flame rained down from above, setting the Levithmong field ablaze. The creatures stampeded around in a blind panic, several screaming in agony as flames stripped the flesh from their bones.

It was chaos, and Dean stood in the middle of it dumbly, frozen to the spot as horror raged around him.

A young female bumped into him, and Dean stumbled, turning his shocked gaze up at the tree as it smoldered with orange flames. He could feel the heat, searing against his skin, and for a moment all he could see was red dirt and blood.

Sam suddenly shoved him hard, forcing Dean to start running.

" _Run Dean!_ " Sam shouted at him, ash streaked across his face. "It's going to collapse! For God's sake,  _run_!"

Bobby hung on grimly to Dean's arms as they struggled to get through the smoke. It poured from the tree in a thick cloud, smothering and dark. Angels cried out all around them, disorientated and frightened, and Dean struggled briefly, trying to head back.

"I can't, Cas-"

Sam shoved him forward. "He'll be fine, Dean. Just keep moving!"

They all stumbled as the ground shook beneath them. The home tree groaned with a tangible pain, the wood around its base snapping. The sound was deafening, and leaves coupled with splinters of wood rained down on them, stinging as badly as the smoke.

Then, with a splitting crack, the tree began to move.

The huge trunk blotted out the sun as it fell, crashing down through the billows of smoke with a grinding shriek as if, the tree itself was crying out in pain. Sam forced Dean and Bobby down onto their bellies, taking cover in the forest where some of the smaller trees might shelter them.

Dean ducked his head low, side jammed up against Sam. Bobby was shouting, cursing as the tree came down in a shower of flames right above them. Dean braced himself for it, for the horrible death that surely had to follow, sparing a hopeful thought that Cas was safe somewhere.

But the forest stood strong, and the massive home tree finally ground to a halt above them, shifting into silence as its bark snapped and crackled where it lay supported by the smaller trees.

Everything fell quiet.

Dean slowly raised his head, shooting a terrified look towards Sam. His brother was okay, wincing as he uncurled from his crouched position. Bobby was panting, tears tracking through the soot on his cheeks as he looked up at the dead tree with horror.

Then the screams began.

 

* * *

 

"Cas!  _Cas_!"

Castiel could hear Dean's shouts, but did he not return them.

His heart felt like it was cracking in two, shattering into a million tiny shards that stabbed him, burrowing their sharp corners into his ribs. His shaking fingers traced the skin beneath his hands, as angels ran past him.

Screaming, always screaming.

Smoke made the air unbearable, his lungs spasming in his chest, but Castiel remained where he was, head downcast and tears digging tracks through the soot coating his face. Ash rained down from the sky, and Castiel's filthy wings struggled to protect the slumped figure in front of him, to protect a brother who had always protected him.

Balthazar lay still, his face slack and relaxed as Castiel touched him, fingers still searching for a pulse despite finding none already.

His brother had pushed him out of the way as the home tree had come crashing down, rolling Castiel into a small groove in the earth where a log had lain. The action had saved Castiel's life, but it had cost Balthazar his own.

He was pinned, lower body hidden by a heavy branch. Balthazar's wings were spread serenely beneath him, and Castiel smoothed the feathers down with shaking fingers.

"Noasmi lit Geiad, esiasch," he whispered. "Olani hoath ol."

( _Be with God, brother. I love you.)_

Boots were moving towards him, Dean's tones growing more panicked.

"Cas!  _Castiel_! Where are- Cas!"

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm him as Dean emerged from the smoke. He hated the joy he felt that Dean was safe, hated what the human had done to him so callously.

"Get back," he growled, voice hoarse from the smoke in the air. "Get back!"

Dean paused, seeing Balthazar. His face fell, and Castiel longed to run to him, longed to wrap himself in the arms he had only just begun to know.

The anger in him grew.

Dean started forward again, hands spread and pleading. "Cas, please, let me-"

"Stay away from me!" Castiel's voice cracked, wings trembling. "This, this is your fault! You,  _you did this_!"

Dean looked devastated, and Castiel bowed his head in anguish.

"Cas,  _please_ ," Dean's voice was pained, begging, but Castiel steeled himself, wings flaring aggressively.

"Leave!" he shouted, tears in his eyes. "Leave, Dean! I, I wish I had never met you. _"_

Castiel's grief was too consuming, his anger blinding. His voice spoke without his permission, and he nearly choked on his words.

"I wish, I wish I had never saved you," he muttered bitterly, vision blurring. "I should have let you  _die_."

He could sense the effect on Dean, the human recoiling as if Castiel had dealt him a physical blow. He might as well have, the pain that lanced through Castiel's chest was real enough.

Dean swallowed heavily, but he tried again, taking a step forward. "Cas, just let me help, I, I can explain-"

Castiel raised his head, numbing his heart against the broken look Dean gave him. "You've done enough," Castiel spat bitterly. "Leave and  _never_  return!"

"Dean!" Sam appeared, grabbing his brother and pulling him away. "Dean, we gotta go! Azazel is going to deploy ground troops!"

At Dean's lack of response, Sam shook him. "Dean we  _have to go_."

Dean pushed him away, still looking at Castiel.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam," he said gruffly, and Castiel felt his heart break all over again. "We, we have to help…"

The wounded sound that clawed its way from Castiel's throat was one he had never heard before.

" _Leave!_ " he screamed, and Sam stumbled back a pace, horrified as he noticed Castiel. "I never want to see you again!  _Dean, leave!_ "

Castiel refused to face the Winchesters any longer. With a moan, he bowed his torso low over Balathazar's body, bitten off wails of grief torn from his throat as he rocked the brother he had loved so dearly. He didn't watch Dean leave, forcibly dragged by Sam, the angel too consumed with the death and destruction of his home that now lay in ruins around him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

Oadriax's normally clear blue skies were choked with ash, falling thick and heavy as Dean stumbled along behind Sam. Behind them the distant whirring of helicraft could still be heard, the over loud clanking of the warbird. Azazel was landing most of the smaller crafts, sending a flood of ground troops after the retreating angels.

And it was all Dean's fault.

"Dean, come on." Sam pulled his brother along tiredly, face black with soot. Bobby followed behind in a stupor, wide eyed as he looked around.

"I can't believe it's gone," the scientist murmured, shaking his head disbelievingly. "All, all that history, just,  _gone_."

Dean stopped, clouds of ash rising at his boots.

"I'm going back," he muttered, turning around. "We gotta go back and-"

"Get  _killed_?" Sam got up in Dean's face, shoving him backwards. "Dean, the angels would probably just kill us on sight. They think  _we_ did this!"

Dean stared his brother down, jaw clenching. "Well that's because we did, Sam! This is  _my fault_ and I have to fix it!"

Sam threw his hands up, scattering the floating ash. "Oh here we go, all aboard the guilt train! Next stop,  _Winchester_."

Dean pushed Sam's shoulder, fingers curling into a fist. "And what's that supposed to mean? You think this is funny? Angels are  _dying_ Sam! Balthazar's dead!"

"You think I don't  _know_  that?" Sam snapped back, eyes blazing. "You think I'm not as devastated as you are? I don't even know if Gabriel-"

He cut himself off, looking away. Bobby was still muttering to himself, shaking his head as he drew shapes in the air with his hands. Sam exhaled shakily, steadying himself.

"We'll get help," he said firmly. "We'll go back to base, round up what we can and go after that yellow bastard."

He reached out, grabbing Dean's bare shoulder firmly, giving his brother a little shake.

"But I need you  _here_ with me. I need you to be Dean the badass, Dean the  _incredibly_  annoying pain in my ass." Sam managed a weak smile. "I need you to be my  _big brother._  If you can do that, I can deal. But if you fall apart now…"

Bobby's sharp whistle of alarm stopped them, and the brothers both dropped into a cautious crouch, scanning the blackened vegetation around them. Dean fingers reached for his boot automatically, but with a curse he remembered he had left his knife back at base.

No furious angels bent on vengeance materialized out of the smoke.

A wide head cleaved through the plants, skin smudged with dirt. Four eyes landed on Dean, and Chevy gave a happy snort, pushing through the trees to trot to his side. She peered over at Sam suspiciously as Dean patted her neck, and Dean clicked his tongue towards her.

"Easy girl. They're friends."

The Levithmong whined, her long tail slowly flicking back and forth as she bumped her head against Dean's shoulder. Bobby approached her, eyes wide.

"Yours I take it?" he asked wryly, chuckling as a purr rumbled in Chevy's chest.

Dean nodded, rubbing his fingers along the hard plates of the Levithmong's neck.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess she made it out of the field okay."

He didn't want to think about those that didn't. The dozens of angels that must have perished, the Levithmong who never stood a chance…

_Cas…_

Sam touched the Levithmong's side warily.

"Can she carry us all, Dean?" he asked, eyes trailing over her strong back. "We have to get back to base.  _Fast._ "

Dean framed Chevy's long face with his fingers, pressing an affectionate kiss between her four eyes as the Levithmong crooned. He could feel her confusion and grief, and tried to comfort her despite the same feelings squatting in his own mind.

"Course she can," Dean said proudly, clearing his throat. "Right baby?"

Dean avoided Sam's eyes. He had to be a soldier now. He had to be the man his father had wanted him to be.

Otherwise Dean wasn't going to survive this. Not again.

As if understanding him, Chevy nickered, bending her front legs to kneel in the dirt. Dean swung up onto her easily, adjusting his weight along the blue plates of her armor. He offered an arm to Sam, and his brother clambered on behind him, both Winchesters having to help Bobby up. Chevy shifted her weight, testing the feeling of having three men on her back, and Dean locked his fingers into the gaps between her neck plates.

"Alright girl," he muttered. "Take us home."

 

* * *

 

The base was in flames.

Chevy scaled the fence easily, digging her talons between the chain links as she cleared the obstacle in a few bounds. Spread across the flat tarmac, humans and demons fought each other, guns firing and voices shouting. Chevy kept her belly low to the ground, scuttling towards a large pile of discarded cargo. The heavy boxes provided good cover, bullets ripping into the sturdy wood.

The Levithmong whined as the humans slid off her back. Dean patted her reassuringly, wincing at the sudden burst of gunfire nearby.

Bobby shuffled to the edge of the boxes, peering cautiously towards the smoldering buildings. His eyes were wide and horrified as he took in the damage.

"Just what the hell is goin' on here?" the scientist growled. "I gotta find Jo. I gotta, I gotta find my daughter."

Bobby started forward, and Sam grabbed onto his arm, tugging him back.

"Are you  _crazy_ Bobby?" Sam whispered fiercely. "You'll be shot!"

"I don't care!" Bobby snapped, struggling to free his arm from the taller man's grip. "My baby is in there! I 'aint gonna sit on my ass out here if she's in trou-"

" _Dad!_ "

Bobby froze. All three men popped their heads over the boxes, sagging with relief as a familiar blonde woman ducked out of the open flight hangar, hurrying over towards them. Ash covered her back, sending a spray of covering fire to clear the way. A demon tried to block them, lunging towards Jo, but she put him down with a sharp crack of her pistol.

Making it across the dangerous tarmac safely, Jo ducked around the boxes, throwing her arms around her step-father. Bobby hugged her back just as crushingly.

Dean watched them, feeling numb.

Jo pulled away, blowing hair out of her eyes as she smiled over at the Winchesters.

"Uh, so, things have been a little, weird," she said apologetically, ducking down low as a machine gun screamed to life nearby. Bobby snorted, everyone shuffling further into the shadows of safety the boxes provided.

"You don't say? I hadn't noticed!" Bobby hollered over the din.

Ash looked grim, reloading his rifle with sharp clicks. "Azazel took half a' the battalion and just  _left._  The demons took up guns after that, Alistair orderin' us all to comply."

Jo grinned, face flecked with blood. "Like  _hell_ we did."

She glanced worriedly back towards the complex, where flames billowed out the windows of the cafeteria. "Azazel wants to eradicate the angels, Dad. I think he's finally snapped."

"Long time coming," Bobby muttered.

"Alistiar is leading the fight here," Jo continued. "Last we saw him, he was headed up towards Crowley. We were on his trail when I saw you hop the fence."

Bobby peered cautiously around the corner of the crate, promptly pulling himself back as the wood around him splintered.

"All demon?" he asked, cursing as Jo nodded her head.

"Pretty much," the pretty blonde confirmed. "A few humans here and there, but most of the trouble makers are demon."

A boom echoed from the back of the base, and Sam whimpered, recognizing the area the blast came from. In the distance, the group could see rising flames, flickering directly from where the biolabs were.

So much for the research.

"We gotta do something!" Dean hissed, digging deep to find a part of himself he had hoped never to see again. He could do this. They had to  _survive._

Bobby reached out to grab Dean's arm, the scientist shaking his head curtly. " _No_. We can handle things here.  _You_ need to get out there and stop that yellow eyed bastard."

Dean could only stare at him, lost. "But, Bobby what are we even supposed to  _do_?"

Bobby's eyes softened, and he clapped an affectionate hand to Dean's cheek. "I don't know, son," he said honestly. "But you gotta do  _somethin_ '. Or else it 'aint just the angels that are gonna be eradicated. We will too."

Sam snapped his fingers, drawing their attention.

"The lab outpost!" he exclaimed. "There's probably still weapons stowed away there, enough to get us going at least. We can grab what we need and track down the angels. We're going to need their help."

Bobby nodded, pushing Dean towards Chevy as the Levithmong got to her feet. "You bet your ass. Tell Michael the truth, get 'im to help."

Dean struggled up onto Chevy, Sam clambering up behind him. There was another explosion, a mushroom cloud of smoke spewing forth from the cafeteria, and Chevy honked fearfully.

Jo hurried over, hand rummaging in the dirty satchel at her side. With a triumphant smile, she pulled out a clinking handful of metal.

"Here," she offered the items to Dean. "I uh, I saved what I could."

Dean stared down at her open hands, throat tightening as he recognized his knife and I.D tags.

"Thanks, Jo." Dean smiled down at the woman he had come to see as the little sister he had never had. "I don't… thank you."

Bobby bit off a curse, slapping Chevy's sleek dark hide.

"Now,  _go_!" he ordered. "God keep you boys safe."

Chevy scrambled away, zigzagging to avoid any bullets as she clambered back over the wire fence, bleating happily as she disappeared into the forest with the Winchesters.

Jo nudged her step-father with a shoulder, smiling tiredly.

"Didn't think you were much of a prayin' man, daddy-io."

Bobby turned to smile at her, giving her a quick hug with one arm. "I'm not, baby. But I figure we could use  _all_ the help we can get."

 

* * *

 

Sam knew where to go. He had studied all the maps, all the possible outposts he could have used for research and sample storage. He shouted the directions as Dean guided them through the forest, Chevy crashing through the thick vegetation. It was Sam's first experience riding a Levithmong, but he couldn't spare much thought for excitement.

Azazel was going to  _pay_  for what he had done.

The trees thinned, and the burned out husk of the outpost came into view. Chevy drew up beside it, breathing heavily through her wide nostrils, and Sam gave her a pat as he slid off her back. He left Dean with her, hurrying inside through the blackened doorway. There was a lot of old debris from the fire, and Sam pushed away rotting wood and ceiling tiles, making his way to where the storage lockers had been.

He shoved aside a beam and a blackened trunk came into view. Sam made a sound of triumph, fingers slipping against the grainy lock. The code on the trunks was the same all over the base, and after a few tries, the trunk slid open with a hiss.

Dean appeared in the doorway, looking around slowly.

"Sam?" he asked quietly, and Sam gritted his teeth against the emptiness in his brother's voice. "What, what is this?"

Inside the trunk, a few guns and knives lay intact, protected by the outer shell of the trunk. Standard issue, and there wasn't much ammo, but it was enough to get them by.

Hopefully.

"It's a field outpost," Sam said carefully, pulling the weapons free. There were even a few company issued t-shirts, and he tossed one towards his bare chested brother. "There are a few dotted around here, but this one was closest."

Dean turned the soft cotton over in his hands.

"It was, it was here wasn't it?" his voice was small, and Sam paused in his scavenging. Dean was looking around them, at the blackened walls, the destroyed equipment. Sam didn't have to ask his brother what he meant. They both knew what had happened here, close to eight years ago.

"Yeah," he said curtly, turning back to the trunk. "But we got other problems right now, Dean."

Dean slid the shirt over his head, pulling it down over his chest as he shook his head helplessly.

"Sam, I, I can't."

To Sam's alarm, Dean slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit in a dejected heap. "Look what happened again. Cas…."

Dean's face crumpled, dropping his face into his hands. "He  _hates_ me, Sam. I just, I ruined everything. Again."

Sam paused, still crouched by the trunk. Slowly, he turned to stare incredulously at his brother, anger burning in his chest.

"You're really going to do this  _now_?" he asked, voice clipped. "You're seriously going to pull that 'Oh woe is me I can never be happy because my boyfriend yelled at me it must be my fault' crap?  _Really,_ Dean?"

There was something of his brother's usual fire in the glare that was aimed towards him. Good. Dean needed anger right now.

"Excuse me?" Dean growled. "Cas isn't my boyfri-"

Sam gestured at him with disgust. "Lay off it, Dean! Everyone knows, and  _no-one cares._  So you're in love with an alien pigeon man. Who gives a flying fuck?"

Dean was staring at him, disbelieving, but didn't exactly tell him he was wrong. "He's an angel, Sam!"

Sam snorted, and Dean got to his feet. He jabbed a finger towards Sam, eyes blazing.

"He  _deserves_  someone of his own kind," Dean said lowly. "He  _deserves_ better than me."

Sam laughed at that, and Dean practically  _growled_  at him.

"Like Uriel?" Sam asked dryly. "Oh yeah, Cas is  _real_ happy with that."

Dean dropped his gaze, looking away from his brother as his jaw clenched. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Look, you huge idiot. Anyone can see you two are like,  _made_ for each other." Sam waved his hands dismissively, ignoring the own clench in his gut as he thought of a different angel. "So knock off this self-pitying  _bullshit_ and let's go save him!"

Dean wasn't looking at him, hands shaking where they balled into fists at his sides. Sam softened his tone, getting to his feet. "Everyone deserves happiness, Dean. Even us. You just have to stop being such, such a  _dick_ about it _."_

"Not me, Sam," Dean muttered, and Sam's heart hurt for his brother. "Look what happened when I tried! Cas hates me, and he should. . I, I fucked it all up."

"No," Sam sighed. "No Dean, you didn't."

Dean looked up at him, and Sam moved closer, reaching out to touch his brother's arm reassuringly.

"Cas's brother was just killed by a yellow eyed psycho. Cut the dude some slack. He didn't mean it." Sam gave Dean's arm a squeeze. "Cas doesn't hate you."

Dean hung his head, defeated.

"I don't, I don't think I can lose him, Sam," his voice cracked slightly, and Sam felt a surge of fierce love for his brother. Dean had always protected  _him,_ but this time, Sam wanted to do the protecting. "I  _can't_  lose anyone else. Especially , especially Cas."

"I know." Sam smiled, giving Dean a little shake. "But you gotta stop  _moping_ and help me. We're doing this together, remember?"

Dean managed a weak chuckle, rubbing his eye as Sam moved away. "Since when are you so bossy?"

"Since always," Sam tossed over his shoulder, looking around the lab for anything else that might be useful. "Now get your sorry ass  _moving_! We have a demon to stop, angels to save, and you have a  _ton_ of makeup sex in your future if you're gonna have a chance at apologizing to Cas."

"Oh man," a voice sniffed by the doorway, and both men jumped. "That was  _beautiful,_  Sam."

Sam whipped around so quickly he almost hurt himself, tripping on the rubble. "Gabriel!"

The angel was covered in black soot, wings frazzled. His teeth were a dazzling white in his ash-blackened face as he smiled. "The one and only!"

The relief Sam felt was staggering, and Sam's hands itched to grab him, to check the angel for any injuries. Gabriel looked exhausted as he trailed inside, looking around. Dean cleared his throat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Not that we're sad to see you."

"Duh, saving the day!" Gabriel chirped, moving further into the lab, poking at the blackened debris. "Michael is moving the clan towards one of our Qaadah trees where he thinks they'll be safe."

The angel turned, feathers rustling. "But that bastard of a security chief isn't going to give up that easy. He's trying to tail them now, it's almost like," Gabriel frowned, shrugging. "I dunno, like he's looking for something."

Sam looked over at Dean worriedly, and Dean sighed.

"You got a plan?" he asked wearily. "Cause I gotta tell you, I'm all out of ideas."

Gabriel shook his head, for once, expression completely serious. "No. But I know someone who might."

 

* * *

 

Dean stared up at the silent tree, feeling weirdly sad as his eyes trailed along the now dull tendrils.

The Qaadah tree was silent, no longer glowing like it had been. Chevy and Hershey nickered worriedly nearby, talons stirring the ashes that seemed to coat everything. The whole forest was still, shocked into silence by the death of the home tree, and the lives that had been extinguished with it.

"This is your bright idea?" Dean asked incredulously. "Talking to a fucking  _tree_?"

Gabriel cracked his eye open. The angel was kneeling amongst the quiet tendrils, wings folded against his back. "Well it wasn't a  _fucking_ tree until you and my baby bro decided to christen it that! Which,  _thanks_ by the way, I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing what Castiel sounds like when he comes."

Dean reddened, spluttering as Sam tried desperately not to laugh. "You, you can  _hear_  that? Here?"

Gabriel waved him away irritably, the angel closing his eyes again. "It records  _memories_ , you idiot. Congrats, your sex life just made it into our history books."

Dean turned away with a dark mutter, glaring up at the tree as if it were somehow to blame. The dirt at the base of the tree was still scuffed and upturned where Dean had lain only the night before. Dean paused, boots toeing the loose leaves. He could still make out the indents were Castiel had lain, his wings stretched wide as Dean stroked his fingers along their feathers. Cas laughing when Dean touched a sensitive spot-

Fingers closed around his wrist, and Dean looked away blinking. Gabriel stood beside him, eyes pitying.

"You have to ask Geiad for guidance," the angel said quietly. "She'll help us."

Dean tugged his arm away angrily. "Pray to a  _god_? Oh yeah, coz that worked so well on Earth!"

"Dean!" Sam hissed, glaring over at him. He had copied Gabriel, kneeling in the mulch amongst the leaves. "Just pray to the goddamn tree and stop wasting time!"

With a grumble, Dean sank down beside his brother, Gabriel settling on his other side. Irritably, Dean held his hands out, folding his palms together and shutting his eyes.

"Dear Geiad," he said loudly, and Sam groaned unhappily beside him. "We're up shit creak without a paddle and could use some help. Maybe a motorboat or something."

Gabriel was murmuring Enochian under his breath, and Dean fell silent, angry and frustrated.

 _This isn't working,_  he thought bitterly. _Cas is out there with Azazel on his tail, alone, and I'm sitting here trying to talk to a stupid_ _ **tree.**_ _Son of a bitch-_

Chevy nickered to him, rustling the leaves at her feet, and again, that odd awareness probed his mind. A sense of calm flooded Dean's veins, an image slowly forming in his mind. Around him, the vines began to hum slightly, and Gabriel looked around himself in awe.

In Dean's mind, he was looking down, at the crater the home tree had left, seeing the devastation that stretched through the forest. A voice whispered to him, urged him to move, and he obeyed the voice, banking to the left. He could smell prey, could smell the burnt banquet that had drawn him towards the devastation, but obediently followed the voice instead. His leathery wings beat the air, his shape casting a morbid shadow on the quiet trees below.

Dean's eyes snapped open.

"I know what I have to do," he said lowly, looking up towards the sky.

High above them, a leviathan of the skies screamed.

 

* * *

 

Castiel sat dejectedly beside Uriel, listening to his people panic.

Moments after the Winchesters had left, Uriel had appeared through the smoke, grabbing Castiel by the shoulders and forcing him away from Balthazar. The dark angel had forced Castiel to follow the line of distraught angels hurrying away from the tree, leaving their fallen to the forest. Castiel had spent the journey in a haze, Uriel encouraging him along with gentle pushes and flaps of his wings. The young baltoh had barely noticed when Michael let them rest at a Qaadah tree, following Uriel in a strange state of disbelief.

The tree was silent as what was left of the clan filtered around aimlessly, the wounded tended to by worried females that moved within the crowd. Castiel watched them all numbly, uncaring of the judgmental looks thrown his way, the anger directed towards him.

It was deserved. In his moment of weakness, Castiel had doomed them all, and for what? A human? A moment of bliss he had mistaken as a promise of a future?

Castiel looked away from the others, heart clenching as he remembered Dean's face as the human was dragged away. Surely it could not have been false? The time they had spent together, the words exchanged, kisses shared. It couldn't be wrong.

It couldn't.

Michael moved amongst the tendrils of the tree, Lucifer beside him. Both his brothers looked shaken, feeling the aching emptiness where the pleasant hum of the home tree had always been.

"We cannot fight them, Michael," Lucifer said, voice shaking. His wings were dirty, Castiel dully noted. Blackened with soot to the point they looked much like Castiel's. "They are too powerful! You've seen what they can do."

Michael paused at the trunk of the tree. Raphael was there, sitting serenely in front of the tree as she prayed. She opened her eyes as she sensed her mate, turning to look up at Lucifer calmly.

"We must trust in Geiad now," she said quietly. "We must pray to Her for assistance."

Lucifer took a step towards her, but Michael pushed him back with a warning rattle of his feathers.

"Assistance?" Lucifer spat angrily. "Balthazar lies dead, Gabriel missing! Geiad has deserted us because of our own stupidity! We should never have welcomed the toltag-"

"That is enough," Michael said calmly, touching Lucifer's chest briefly. "Peace, brother. You frighten the others."

Castiel turned away, drawing his legs up towards his chest. He felt achingly numb, lost and alone. Uriel shifted beside him, the stoic angel unsure of what to say.

"I am sorry for your loss, Castiel," he finally murmured, brushing Castiel's wings with his own. "Balthazar will be missed."

Castiel watched his clan mill around aimlessly in front of him. "As am I, Uriel. I, I am sorry."

The burly angel winced, understanding what it was Castiel was really apologizing for. Castiel expected anger, harsh words perhaps, but Uriel merely nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Castiel. But you need not apologize. I trust in Geiad and Her decisions. She has decided that you should belong to another. As," he struggled then, frowning violently. "… _odd_  as he may be."

Castiel turned his face towards Uriel , watching as the larger angel slowly slid the leather thong over his head, cupping the heavy tooth in his palm. The Hoath bond. Castiel suddenly felt guilty he had always shunned his. He had always thought it ugly, the Vniglag tooth a bitter reminder that Uriel had killed such a magnificent creature in his name.

Slowly, Uriel handed it to Castiel, and he took it after a moment's hesitation.

"You, you give this to me?" he asked curiously. "You give up the Hoath?"

Uriel sighed, avoiding Castiel's eyes. "With a heavy heart. I would have been proud to call you my mate, Castiel. I may not have always understood you, nor understood your actions but…"

He shrugged awkwardly. "I always loved you. I hope that though we shall not mate, that we can be, friends at least. Brothers."

Castiel smiled, nodding. "I would like that, Uriel. Very much."

Uriel smiled uncertainly back.

A loud screech rent the air, and both angels jumped, the Hoath slipping from Castiel's fingers to clack against the hard packed dirt.

"Teloch!" someone screamed, and a group of fledglings began wailing. "We are lost!"

Angels scrambled for cover, screaming and shouting as a shadow fell across them all. Castiel gazed upwards in horror, recognizing the titanic wing span of the angel's greatest enemy. It swooped down from above, sharp teeth glinting in the light, and Uriel was on his feet, shouting at Castiel to move.

It seemed Geiad had truly deserted them.

It swooped down, fearsome jaw clacking, but the creature did not attack. Castiel paused, bewildered as it landed awkwardly, wings flapping furiously and knocking several angels over. It was then Castiel realized there were figures in its claws, the teloch releasing them with a rattling hiss.

Castiel's heart leapt as he recognized the dappled brown wings it released, fluttering and puffed with excitement.

"Oh we  _have_ to do that again," Gabriel's voice rang loud and clear, and the fleeing angels paused, turning disbelieving eyes towards the teloch. "That was awesome!"

From the teloch's other talon, Samuel Winchester slowly swayed to his feet, pallor green as Gabriel moved to help him. The human stifled a retch, giving a full body shudder.

"Oh god. I think, I think I saw my life pass before my eyes," he hiccupped. "It was, kind of boring."

Gabriel made soothing noises and the teloch shifted, bowing its head low to the ground. A hush fell over the shocked angels as a figure slid down its bowed neck, boots hitting the dirt with a loud thud. The figure patted the teloch's neck awkwardly, the giant creature clacking happily.

Castiel hardly dared breathe.

_Dean._

The human looked around him nervously. Samuel leant heavily against Gabriel, both joining Dean to look out over the sea of shocked angels, Gabriel giving Castiel a tiny wave.

Dean's eyes found him then, and Castiel shivered. He had never heard of anyone riding the teloch before. To do so, Geiad must have willed it to be so.

Castiel moved forward, ignoring Michael's soft call. Angels parted before him, murmuring quietly as he passed them by. But Castiel's eyes were trained solely on Dean, helpless to the siren call that thrummed through his veins.

Dean was anxious, worried, as Castiel approached.

"Cas," the human began desperately. "Castiel I-"

"Dean. I, I am sorry." Castiel felt his wings quiver. Dean had returned. Dean was  _here._

Castiel's anger melted away. The atrocity committed against his people was not of Dean's doing. Castiel had never truly believed it had, but fear had clouded his mind and heart.

"I was afraid, Dean," he admitted quietly, and Dean took a step forward, the teloch snorting behind him. "For my brothers and sisters. For myself."

The grief of Balthazar's death was still raw, but Castiel did not blame Dean.

Castiel straightened his back, tilting his chin up. "I am not anymore."

Dean cleared the space between them, wrapping his arms around Castiel's shoulders and pulling him close. Castiel clutched him in return, wings twitching and fluttering with joy. Angels were muttering around them but Castiel didn't care.

Dean had come  _home_.

Michael approached them both, eyes serious as he eyed the teloch warily. "I appreciate your help, toltag. But I fear the demon seeks to destroy us completely."

Dean drew away from Castiel.

"You have to fight," he said boldly, and the angel's fell silent to listen to him. To listen to the one that dared tame the teloch.

Castiel looked at Dean worriedly. "Our number is not nearly powerful enough to launch an assault. What chance do we have?"

His heart leapt as Dean reached for his hand, fingers intertwining. Dean smiled. "You gotta have a little faith, Cas."

Castiel smiled back, heart pounding, but now with joy instead of grief.

"I do, Dean," he said softly, leaning in to kiss the human, uncaring of the shocked gasps around him. "In  _you_."


	12. Chapter 12

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.

* * *

Dean couldn't keep track of the fighting.

Sam was out there somewhere, riding with Gabriel, and Dean hoped his brother would be safe. They had barely managed to rally the angels together, gathering what weapons they had, before the demons descended.

Battles had erupted everywhere, the metallic spitting of bullets ripping through the trees. In the skies, helicraft whirred and screamed as angels attacked with a barrage of arrows and fists, wings slicing through the air sharply as they were met with artillery fire. The ground shook with the pounding of Levithmong, the creatures thundering towards the advancing demon lines that were beginning to surround the soul tree. The air was sharp with smoke and chaos, and for a moment, Dean thought he could smell sulfur.

A helicraft exploded overhead and Dean blinked, drawn back by cool fingers touching his face.

"You are not there, Dean," Castiel said firmly, looking up at him. Chevy shifted beneath Dean's thighs, muscles coiled and thrumming with energy as the angel stood beside her. "You are here. With me."

Dean nodded sharply, and Castiel released him.

A loud screech vibrated through the air, and the teloch swung into view above them, slamming into the side of the huge warbird. Dean could just make out Uriel's dark shape on its back, firing arrows at the hard glass that covered the cockpit. Castiel glanced up towards the scene, eyes hard.

"I will assist Uriel. Be careful, Dean."

Dean nodded. "You too, Cas. You come back, you hear?"

He caught a glimpse of Castiel's smile, felt the brush of fingers against his, but then the angel was gone, pushing off from the ground and rising into the sky with powerful sweeps of his black wings.

Chevy brayed expectantly, and Dean turned away, urging her forward with a squeeze of his legs. Judging by the shouts and roars up ahead, the angels on the ground had already challenged the advancing demons.

"C'mon Chevy. Let's show them what pain really is!" he growled, and the Levithmong barked in agreement, bounding forward with a flick of her tail.

Dean almost flipped right over her head as Chevy suddenly slammed to a halt, snorting fearfully. With a honk of alarm, she reared, body twisting as something spooked her from the forest. Dean hung on to the reins hard, the rope searing painfully into his palms as he shouted at her to calm down.

The trees rustled in front of them, a figure pushing the vines aside. She held her hands up in surrender as she noticed Dean, a smile slowly spreading across her blood splattered face.

"Easy there John Wayne!" she shouted, and Dean pulled Chevy back under control.

"Ruby!" he called back, Chevy prancing agitatedly beneath him.

The demon smiled tiredly, her dark hair wild and messy. A thin line of blood oozed across her cheek, dribbling sluggishly from a cut. "The one and only, hot stuff. I've been running through this stupid forest looking for you for fucking  _hours._ "

Dean frowned, glancing suspiciously behind her. No other demons came running to her side. "You're not fighting with Azazel?"

Ruby laughed. "You kidding me? I've had more fun with you guys than I ever had with my own kind. Team human all the way, baby."

She noticed Dean's wary glance, and rolled her eyes impatiently. "Look, Crowley made me keep an eye on you. Didn't want Alistair messing you up and I played my part. But guess what? I actually ended up kind of  _liking_  you for some weird reason. So here I am. Bobby said you 'idjits' might need help."

Dean grinned down at her. He couldn't believe that without his say-so, he had accidentally formed a friendship with a demon.

"You know for a demon, you're not half-bad."

Ruby winked, and the smile in her black eyes was genuine. "Could say the same about you. Now," she slid a pistol free from her waistband, cocking it with flourish. "Let's go kick some Azazel  _ass_!"

 

* * *

 

Mortar went flying as a bullet pinged over his head and Bobby swore, ducking low around the corner. The base was a mess, filled with squabbling humans and demons alike, but the scientist had managed to fight his way up towards the PR offices with Jo and Ash by his side. His little girl was all grown now, he noted proudly, watching as Jo leant out of cover to fire at the demons down the hall, hitting one dead on and sending the others scrambling for cover.

Bobby had figured there was only one man on base who even had a chance at stopping the fighting, and it seemed the demons had had the same thought.

Crowley's office was swarmed with demons, Alistair among them. Bobby had seen the slimy bastard just minutes before, darting into the office with a machine gun, and the scientist knew it was only a matter of time before Alistair killed the red eye.

"We can't keep firin' at 'em and hope they just surrender!" Ash ground. The marine was bleeding from a graze to the arm, and had one hand clamped over the wound to stop the bleeding. "And I sure as hell 'aint waitin' around for 'em to group up again."

Jo ejected her empty clip, snapping another into place easily.

"I say we take the party to them," she said calmly, cocking her pistol. "'Aint no party like a Singer party, Mom used to say."

Bobby threw his step-daughter an affectionate smile. "That she did, honey. But we don't know how many of those slimy bastards are in there. There's only three of us and about a dozen of 'em."

Jo cocked an eyebrow, leaning out again to fire two shots. She ducked back to cover as the demons replied in same, and winked up at her step-father. "Well that's one less at least."

Suddenly the floor beneath them trembled, a loud roar shaking the walls. Bobby's eyes widened as he lunged forward, knocking Jo to the ground.

"Down!" he bellowed towards Ash, recognizing the sound from his days back in the service. "Get down, it's-"

A tunnel of flame erupted down the corridor, and the demons caught in it didn't stand a chance. They screamed shrilly, and Bobby clamped his hands over Jo's ears, trying to spare her the horrifying sounds. Heat razed at them from above, before disappearing back where it came from, sucked back into the office.

Smoke spilled out from the destroyed door, and Bobby sat up, coughing. Jo looked dazed, hair disheveled as she stared down the blackened corridor.

"Holy moly, what was  _that?_ "

Bobby got to his feet, and the other two followed him cautiously as he started down towards the office.

" _That's_ why red-eyes weren't allowed on the battlefield," Bobby said grimly, stepping over the charred corpse of a demon. "Too volatile."

Crowley's office was in ruins, the expensive mahogany singed and glowing. Melted holos stuck to the floor, and the still smoldering corpses of a few demons slumped against the walls, gleaming skulls blackened by flame.

Alistair lay in the center of the room. What was left of him. Bobby grimaced at the charred, smoking heap, inching his way into the room with a hand over his mouth. There, lying motionlessly against the far wall was Crowley, untouched by the fire around him.

A nasty cut bled sluggishly across his forehead, and the demon didn't stir, even when Bobby hissed his name. The scientist shuffled over, kneeling beside the fallen demon as his joints popped and clicked.

Goddammit he was too old for this fighting shit.

"Dad!"

Jo's voice rang out worriedly as a blacked ceiling tile fell down, shattering against the carpet. The whole room was in danger of collapsing, and Bobby motioned for her to stop.

"Stay back, baby," he warned. "Stay by the door where it's safe."

Jo nodded, but her eyes were worried. Bobby turned his attention back to the prone demon, fingers searching out the pulse point of Crowley's neck. The skin beneath his fingers was clammy and cold.

No pulse.

" _Shit_."

Bobby set his gun down, crouching low to press his ear to the demon's chest. The damn idiot was still wearing his stupid suit, but now it was singed and torn. Bobby's head didn't rise, and he couldn't hear anything.

Crowley wasn't breathing.

"Goddammit, Crowley!" Bobby swore, pressing two hands just over the demon's chest. He knew demon's had two hearts, but god knew where the bastards actually were. He did a series of compressions, muttering words of encouragement.

Crowley didn't move.

Bobby struggled out of his grimy coat. "If you survive this," he ground, glaring down at the apparently dead demon. "I'm going to  _kill you_."

He tilted Crowley's head back, hesitating for a moment before leaning down and locking his mouth over the demon's, pressing his lips into an airtight seal as he tried to breathe life into the still demon.

"Come on!" Bobby snarled as he pulled away, feeling ribs creak under his hands as he began compressions again. He could hear Jo behind him, the panicked hitches in her breathing that told him she was crying.

Bobby pounded furiously against Crowley's chest. " _Live_  dammit! I've lost too many goddamn friends!"

Another deep breath, and then, just as Bobby was ready to sink back and have a bit of a cry himself, there was a gust of air against his lips. Crowley's chest heaved, a dry gasp rattling as his lungs began to work. Hurriedly, Bobby pressed his fingers against the demon's neck, and exhaled shakily as he felt two strong beats kick against his fingertips.

"Oh," Bobby breathed, ridiculously relieved. "You son of a  _bitch_."

Jo was laughing, lunging to hug Ash fiercely as Crowley slowly opened his eyes, staring up at Bobby dazedly.

"Never thought I'd be happy to those blood red peepers!" Bobby grinned, eyes crinkling.

Crowley blinked at him, awareness seeping into his gaze. Slowly, Bobby helped him sit up, and the demon winced, clutching his chest.

"Never thought I'd be snogged by you either," the demon rasped shakily, shooting him a half-hearted smirk. " _Friend._ "

Bobby slung one arm over his neck, helping the demon limp from the room. As they reached the hallway, Jo grabbed his other arm, tucking herself stubbornly into Crowley's other side.

"Good to see you decided to stay and haunt us in the flesh, Crowley," she said affectionately, still teary.

Crowley chuckled at her, red eyes softening. "What would you do without me? You Singers wouldn't have anyone to bitch about."

Ash peered towards the destroyed office.

"Alistair?" he asked worriedly and Crowley snorted.

"Not a problem anymore." He winced at the rasp in his voice, looking over at Bobby beside him. "But I take it Azazel…"

"Is still somewhere wreckin' havoc," Bobby confirmed grimly. "But those Winchester boys are on 'im. If anyone can stop that lunatic, it's them."

"What happened?" Jo asked desperately, wiping her still damp eyes with one hand. "I mean, we all knew Azazel was crazy but-"

"Got new orders in yesterday," Crowley cleared his throat with a wince as the two humans helped him down the now empty hallway. "Roman Enterprises has decided to remodel. The company is going to become a research facility. They were so impressed with Dean's success with the angels that they realized it's more profitable to churn out scientific papers than mineral."

Bobby and Jo gaped at him.

"But, that's wonderful!" Jo gushed, squeezing him slightly. "That's what we've been hoping for!"

Crowley sighed. "Yeah, for you lot. Kind of makes Azazel's position a bit meaningless though, don't it?"

The group lapsed into silence and the sounds of battle could be heard from outside.

Bobby frowned. "You mean to tell us, that all o' this, all the, fightin' and killin', this is all a demonic  _tantrum_  'cause he was gonna be fired?"

Crowley shrugged as best he could. "To be honest, this happens all the time on Hel. Pretty normal reaction really."

He smiled tiredly, giving a weak chuckle. "You should see our weddings."

They turned down another corridor, and Jo glanced out a cracked window worriedly. "So Azazel is going to wipe out the angels? Like a final, 'fuck you'?"

Crowley shook his head. "No. Azazel has one specific person in mind. The rest is just, a  _distraction_."

 

* * *

 

Sweat stung his eyes as Dean slammed into the ground, pain erupting in spasms across his back. Chevy howled as she went down as well, the earth shaking as she smashed into the undergrowth, body slumping motionlessly amongst the now crushed flowers.

Azazel smiled, eyes glittering through the smoke of his gun.

"You're a tough man to find, Winchester."

Dean struggled into a crouch with a wince, mind scrabbling to figure out how the demon had managed to jump him. A quick glance around the small clearing, and he spotted the crumpled sheet of fabric a bit further away, the strings caught on the plants around it. The warbird had gone down in a plume of flames only minutes before, seemed the Captain had decided  _not_ to go down with the ship.

"You parachuted down just to try and kick my ass?" Dean snorted, getting to his feet. His gun had been lost when Chevy had reared at the first blast, but his combat knife would do just as well. He slid it free of his boot, holding it in front of him threateningly. "I'm honored."

The demon shrugged. "What can I say? I like to make an entrance."

Dean eyed the gun in the demon's hands, fingers tightening around his knife. The fighting around them was loud, and he could hear Ruby's battle cries over the din. He was on his own.

"So now what? You gonna kill me?"

Azazel laughed. "Oh, definitely. But not with  _this._ "

He tossed the gun away from him, and it tumbled into the bushes, lost from view. The demon smiled as he pulled a knife from his boot as Dean had done. "I always preferred the more  _hands on_  approach."

They circled each other, Dean rolling his shoulders to lessen the pain that still throbbed in his back.

"You gonna tell me why?" The battle continued around them, a helicraft turret thundering overhead. "Why you've done this and  _why,_  you seem to have it in for me?"

Azazel pushed his bottom lip out in a parody of a pout, straightening his shoulders. "Poor, Dean. You really don't understand, do you? All these years and you  _still_ just don't get it."

The helicraft drunkenly tilted overhead, a group of angels in hot pursuit. Dean glared hatefully at Azazel, despising how calm and self-assured the demon looked.

"So explain it," he ground. " _Enlighten_ me."

Those bright yellow eyes bore into him as Azazel pointed the knife towards Dean with a smirk. "I wasn't lying when I said I read your file. Quite the list of psychological trauma. Still, I suppose daddy dearest didn't  _intend_ to have his throat torn out, right?"

Dean froze, crouched low. "You shut your  _goddamn mouth_ ," he snarled, adrenaline flooding his veins.

Azazel looked pleased. "Oh, did I hit a sore spot? Good. You see, Dean, you have a habit of blaming yourself for other people's deaths. As well you should."

Dean lunged forward then, vision blurring. Azazel dodged him with a laugh, catching Dean's shoulder with the knife. Dean stumbled, feeling the sting.

Azazel cocked his hip, eyebrow arched as Dean swung back around. "First it was mommy, then poor old dad. Who'll it be next? Sammy boy? Or that pretty little angel of yours?"

" _Shut up_!"

Dean tried to overwhelm him, to force the demon to drop into a protective crouch, but Azazel was like smoke, slipping past him easily. The demon's pitying laughter made Dean's ears ring and his blood boil.

"I admit Dean, I'm not usually one for,  _theatrics_." Azazel tapped his lip thoughtfully with the knife, the tip slightly bloodied from the cut on Dean's shoulder. "I think I got a tad carried away with the whole fire thing."

Dean seized up, and Azazel looked back at him, a slow cruel smile spreading across his face. "I mean, the only reason I  _killed_  the bitch was to get your sorry ass out here."

Time seemed to stop. Dean was a frozen statue, unable to move.

"Wh—what?" his voice was strangled, disbelieving. No, it couldn't be. It had been an  _accident,_  they said. Just, just an accident…

Azazel shrugged dismissively. "I told her it wasn't anything personal. She was just my means to a very interesting end." The demon spread his arms, reveling in the chaos around them, the shouts and screams of the dying.

"And what an ending it'll be!"

The earth shook as a helicraft crashed nearby, the heat searing through the trees. Dean didn't even flinch, still staring at the creature in front of him.

"I, I don't understand." The forest was spinning around him, his lungs drawing in air but suddenly too empty.

"I'm stuck out here, Dean," Azazel's voice was cold as he advanced, eyes predatory. "Too damaged to rejoin society they said. I got stuck on security detail in the asshole of the galaxy until the day I die." He paused. " _Or_ get fired. But you know who just happens to be here when I arrive?"

Dean could only stand there dumbly as the demon drew up close to him, knife glinting in the fires around them.

"The mother of the guy I'm just  _dying_ to meet," Azazel whispered. "What luck! And would you look at that? Her other son just happens to be the only one who can complete her work if something bad would happen to her."

The demon grinned. "And the forest is so very  _dangerous_  for such a fragile thing."

That snapped Dean out of it, his legs finally pushing forward as he slashed outwards with an enraged shout. Taken by surprise, Azazel hissed as the knife cut a thin red line across his chest. He backed away, but his eyes were still triumphant.

"You're right to feel guilty, Dean," the demon murmured. "She died for you.  _Because_ of you."

"Why?" Dean snapped, his knife slicing through the air as his vision blurred. " _Why_?"

Azazel was on him then, knocking the knife from his hands easily. Fingers dug into Dean's neck, hauling him up, and Dean struggled, grabbing at the hands around his throat. Azazel glared up at him hatefully, Dean's boots scrabbling in the air as he struggled to breathe.

"Why?  _Why?_ " Azazel's fingers tightened, and Dean's lungs burned. "Like you don't know, you little  _shit_. Like you don't remember what you did on Hel. I am going to kill you, Winchester. And it is going to be messy, and bloody, and by your absent  _God,_ will it be painful."

Dark tendrils of promised oblivion were curling around his eyes, the sky growing dark as Dean stared up sightlessly. Blood roared in his ears as his lungs struggled to inhale, heart pounding a panicked gallop against his ribs.

Suddenly Azazel let go with a bark of pain and Dean hit the ground hard. He was barely aware of it, could barely hear the shouting or feel the feathers that trailed across his face before his world went black.

 

* * *

 

The shattering booms of the aircraft overhead alarmed him, made his feathers jostle and his heart race.

This was not what he had planned. Not what he had wanted.

Lucifer glanced up fearfully, automatically crouching low to the ground as the teloch screamed overhead. The burning husk of a helicraft smoldered nearby, the charred remains of the pilots slung from the cockpit and half draped over the glowing metal.

A voice called his name, and Lucifer looked around dazedly. Raphael emerged from the smoke, her brown eyes wide and wrecked. Like the males, she had donned stiff battle armor, her long black hair woven into a long braid down her back.

" _Lucifer_ ," she fluttered to his side, her wings anxious and disheveled. "Lucifer, you must come. It is Michael."

His heart lurched, and Lucifer nodded dumbly. He didn't protest as she took his hand in hers, dragging him through the smoke and fighting. The iadnamad's palm was slick against his, fingers thrumming with adrenaline.

They ducked past a group of injured demons, Raphael tugging him forward through a canopy of vines. The vegetation pulled on Lucifer's wings, and as he struggled to free himself, Lucifer could see where Raphael had dragged Michael away from the fighting. The grass was slick with blood, mixed with the ash from the home tree.

Michael had led the first assault in a blaze of glory that had rallied the angels forward, his wings held proud and high as they had forced the demons to scatter before them. But leading the assault had demanded a heavy price, and Michael had paid it.

The leader of the clan lay on the grass, skin pale and sickly, eyes glazed. A gaping wound opened along his chest, and Lucifer could hear the sucking that accompanied each torturous breath as Michael's fingers twitched in the crushed grass.

Michael was dying.

Lucifer stared blankly at the scene. There was a panicked roaring in his ears, his mind rebelling at the reality before it, even as his voice spoke, calm and collected.

"You must go to the human's complex, Raphael," he murmured, turning to the female angel. "I sense the humans are in need of our help."

Raphael looked lost, like a fledgling separated from her mother. Her hand dropped from his, and her wings shook unhappily. "But Lucifer-"

"I will take care of Michael," he continued softly, his wings brushing against hers. It was the only kindness he had ever shown her, but in that moment, it was genuine. "I promise, sister. His passing will be painless."

Raphael searched his eyes, but knew the truth as well as he did. Michael would not survive this battle. She swallowed, eyes fluttering shut, and nodded.

"Yes, brother," she whispered, her brown eyes wet when she looked at him again. "I, I will speak with him."

Lucifer watched as she knelt by Michael's side, her whispered words too quiet for him to hear. Michael groaned, and she shushed him, pressing a desperate kiss to his sweaty brow. Lucifer looked away then, allowing them privacy as his own mind shouted, fear and anger echoing in the empty spaces of his skull.

It was not long before Raphael was back at his side.

"Geiad be with you, brother," she said quietly, touching his face lovingly. Her fingers smoothed along his cheeks, and Lucifer swallowed, nodding once.

Raphael pulled away, straightening her shoulders. "Michael asks for you."

She was gone then, disappearing in a flurry of dusky brown feathers. Lucifer looked over at his ruined brother, beginning to shake.

Michael's eyes were pained, his wings twitching uselessly beneath him. Lucifer slowly approached, looming above his older brother, as a slow stain of red spread along the grass beneath Michael.

"Lucifer," Michael gasped, in obvious pain. "It is…good to see you."

_This is my fault. Oh Michael, what have I done?_

"Rest, brother," Lucifer whispered, kneeling at Michael's side. The grass beneath his knees was warm and sticky. "Reserve your strength."

Michael smiled weakly, and Lucifer's heart clenched.

"I think we both know my strength is now waning. I…"Michael winced, air rattling in his lungs. "I am… counting on you brother, to…lead our people."

Emptiness clawed at Lucifer with spiteful claws. He could feel the darkness within him, a corruption that had been planted years ago. It whispered to him, pulsing and gleeful.

 _This is what you wanted,_  it cackled.  _What you planned for. You can_ _ **rule.**_

" _No_!"

Lucifer pushed the voice down, denying it. It laughed hollowly as Lucifer's fingers found Michael's blood slicked ones, pressing their palms together. "I will get you to a healer, Michael. You will survive, I-"

He was taken aback by the flash in Michael's eyes, the sudden tightening of Michael's fingers around his.

"No," Michael ground, wings twitching. "No, brother. I know we…have not always seen eye to eye."

Lucifer winced, watching as a bubble of blood formed in the corner of Michael's mouth, bursting and dribbling down his chin.

"But…I love you, brother," Michael's voice was pained. "And Geiad now calls me home. To…to our father, our mother."

He was wheezing now, and Lucifer quaked as the smell of death grew stronger.

Michael gazed up at him pleadingly. "Promise me, Lucifer. Promise me… you will look after our clan."

Lucifer could barely feel the beat of his own heart, the rush of blood in his veins. Was this how demons felt? Empty and hollow, with nothing left within because they had sacrificed it all. Given it all away for something so foolish as  _power_. How could he have been so blind? So full of greed?

Lucifer swallowed as Michael gazed up at him hopefully. How could he have done this? How…how could…

 _What is one more broken promise?_  Lucifer thought bitterly.  _Your soul is filled with broken vows and dreams. What is one more?_

Lucifer nodded, squeezing his brother's hand. "I promise, Michael."

Michael smiled tiredly, lips flecked with red. "Thank you," he murmured quietly.

The fingers laced between Lucifer's grew frailer, Michael's half-lidded gaze distant and far away.

"I can see them, Lucifer," Michael whispered, and his body shuddered. "Father…they have missed us so."

Lucifer swallowed the emptiness rising in his throat. "Go to them, Michael. Be at peace, brother."

Michael was smiling, goofily and wide, as he had used to back when he and Lucifer were mere fledglings, running wild through the forest. Lucifer leant down to kiss his cheek, eyes clenched shut as Michael murmured quietly to himself.

When Lucifer pulled away, his brother was still. Michael looked upwards into eternity, and Lucifer pulled his hand free, closing his brother's eyes and pressing a kiss to each eyelid.

The fighting around them continued, but Lucifer did not move. He was weary, soul sick and tired. His deceptions had cost him everything in the end, and Lucifer could feel nothing but sadness. Azazel's madness had become Lucifer's own, had become his undoing at the very end.

The teloch screamed once again, and Lucifer glanced up to see the largest ship tilt in the sky. It was on fire, spiraling downwards as the planet's pull latched onto her huge metallic hide. The war-bird descended, trailing fire and sparks with a deafening roar, huge and wrathful as if an embodiment of Geiad herself in all her fury.

Lucifer watched it above him, fire dancing in his eyes. He swallowed, wings trembling, and took Michael's limp hand in his own again. He squeezed the cool skin, steeling himself as judgment rained down on him from above.

"Forgive me," he whispered, as flames erupted around him, the ship blotting out the sun as it tore through the trees above. "Forgive me, Mary."

 

* * *

 

Dean ran.

He was always running, boots slapping against the slick ground as the metal on his uniform clinked against the cold rifle in his hands. John was yelling at him, voice growing fainter as Dean ran on, quieter and further away.

_Good._

The battle had been lost, and he was going to die, but he was going to take down every son of a bitch demon with him.

His legs burned as he struggled over the crest of a small hill, red dust rising in clouds at his feet. Dead human and demon bodies littered the ground in stiff clumps, and it wasn't until Dean leapt over a thick spiky line of wire that he realized he had stormed through the demon line. Most of the demon assault had dispersed down and into the human camp already, but a few remained, and they stared at him with surprise as he forced his way into their flank.

 _She_ saw him first.

She was strikingly beautiful, bent over the fallen form of one of her comrades. Like Dean, her face was smudged with dirt and sweat, her dark hair wild and messy. She looked like she belonged on a fashion holo, not a battlefield, her crimson lips parted to show the tips of perfectly polished teeth as she stared him down.

And those eyes. Those wide and bright eyes. Yellow, they were a sulfuric contrast to the bright red splattered across her face, the burgundy that dripped down her chin. She was no mere soldier, her stiff black armor boasted several metallic pins of varying colors. He knows a Commander when he sees one.

By dumb luck, Dean had managed to stumble upon the leader of the assault.

The surprise wore off as he swung his rifle around, and she screamed at him, lips stretched wide. Clearing the space between them in the blink of an eye, she hooked her fingers into claws. His gun was slapped from his nerveless fingers, and a hot pain burst across his belly.

Blood sluiced down the front of his uniform, sticky and hot. She raged at him, words he didn't understand. She wanted to devour him whole, to swallow his body and soul until there wasn't even a memory of him left to bury.

The sudden boom of a rifle was deafening. A bloody chasm disintegrated across the right side of her face, the cheekbone gone in a spray of blood and gristle. She backed away for a moment, just a precious moment, and strong arms grabbed Dean from behind, pulling him back from the brink of destruction and back into the pain of living.

He recognized the gruff tones, though he couldn't understand the words through the ringing in his ears.

 _Dad_.

The demon returned, her remaining eye blazing as she grabbed for Dean's legs. He watched her numbly, body frozen as his veins seized up in shock.

Another explosion of rifle fire, and she fell back once more.

Others were coming, with eyes as black as death itself. Fingers dug into his arm, pulling him away from John and into a roiling mass of demons with hungry eyes and slavering teeth.

He was going to die.

He knew he would, that he'd die on a battlefield so far from home, and he accepted it. Dean tried to embrace death as it rose before him, closing his eyes against the sharp sting of teeth in his arms.

John knew it too. His rifle had only one round left, and the Commander must die. The battle may be lost, but they could still win the war. The loss of a high ranking demon would be a blow, the slight chink in the demonic armor that the humans had been fighting so desperately for.

They could win this, and all she had to do, was  _die_.

Demons swarmed over him, blotting out the red sky above as they pressed Dean into the dirt. His lungs heaved, struggling to pull in air.

There was only one round left. His father, the toughest, most  _stubborn_  son of a bitch the universe had ever seen, knew it. John Winchester, who'll get a chest full of medals no matter what way the war might go. John Winchester, the man who had sent countless men to their deaths, who had sacrificed so much for his planet, and was always ready to sacrifice more.

Dean was honored to be such a sacrifice.

Dirty fingers gouged a bloody trench in his stomach, peeling apart his skin easily, and all Dean could feel was  _pride_. The son was proud he could finally be of use to the father, could at last sacrifice something worth losing.

Dean would die for John, for the chance to finally  _win_. And he would do it proudly.

The rifle sounded one last time, Dean's toll of judgment. But it wasn't the Commander that fell to the ground in a spray of death, it was the demon on top of Dean, trying to claw its way into his insides.

It fell back, its twitching corpse startling the others who immediately retreated, hissing and fearful.

The rifle clicked on empty.

Dean twisted, struggling to sit up. The empty rifle clattered to the ground, and Dean turned wide eyes towards his father. He had witnessed the impossible, the sacrifice that could never be made. There was only ever one thing John Winchester could never stand to lose.

And it was  _Dean_.

The Commander, bleeding and furious, lunged at the older man. Her nails dug into the exposed skin of his arms, her perfect teeth snapping at his throat.

Dean struggled to get up, but his body was tired, too wounded. He could only watch, mouth opening and closing as the demon finally sank her teeth into the grimy line of John's throat. She tugged her head back sharply, a grim parody of the pretty models that flirted in holos back on the Citadel. A spray of dark blood arced across the sky, her gore slicked hair slapping wetly against her cheek as the demon tore John's throat out.

Everything was suddenly muffled. An enraged roar built and built in Dean's chest until it was a searing pain, a physical fire he had no hope of controlling. The knife in his boot cut his fingers as he drew it, but Dean couldn't feel the pain.

She didn't hear him coming. The demon was too concentrated on gorging herself, too focused on her own rage and pain. Torrents of red dripped down her chin and Dean couldn't see anything else, couldn't  _think_. The Furies were with him, giving him wings to clear the yawning distance between him and the demon, and the Furies sang a dirge of vengeance that Dean was helpless to resist.

She looked vaguely surprised as he sank his blade into her ruined eye socket, mouth parted in surprise. Splashes of rubies were dotted along the plump swell of her lips, jewels that she had no right to claim, and he twisted the blade deeper, bone cracking.

She shuddered, a long sigh rattling in her throat as her one perfect yellow eye rolled upwards as if praying to God. Dean twisted harder, throwing his weight against the blade as he screamed into her face, bone shattering beneath his grip. Shards of it pierced his hand, sliced his palm open and severed the tendons beneath.

" _ **Dean**_."

Like a swimmer breaching the surface of water, Dean reared back, gasping. Hel faded around him, the demon shimmering into nothing. He could hear the distant shouts of marines, the shots that rung out signaling the victory of Serpent's Pass.

It was a memory. An echo of something that had happened long ago. An empty greyness now swirled around him, and Dean cast around in it, lost for a moment.

"Dad?"

The grey cleared, and John sat in front of him, cross legged and serene. Which couldn't be, _isn't_  what happened. The gaping abyss gouged into his father's neck had killed him instantaneously, robbed Dean of the chance of a goodbye.

But there John sat, whole and intact. He still wore his army uniform, but it was clean and pristine, the I.D tags dangling around his shirt, present and shiny.

"Good to see you, Dean."

Dean shook his head, his hands trembling. He could feel the phantom pain in his palm, the last revenge of a demon long dead. "What, what is this? You're dead."

John smiled at him. "Sure am, kid. That demon got me good."

This wasn't right. Even in his half remembered dreams, John never spoke. Someone was breaking the rules.

"But I...I don't..." Dean floundered. "I don't understand."

John's eyes were warm. Dean remembered them looking like that when Mary had still been with them.

"I know. It's not something I can explain easily. But I'm here. I'm here, Dean."

It made no sense. It was a trick, something sick thought up by a demon to punish him. Punish him for failing, for letting people he loved  _die._

John rose to his knees, shuffling closer. The hand he laid on Dean's shoulder felt real, heavy and warm. "I never told you enough Dean, but, I'm proud of you. I always have been."

Dean stared, throat working but no words forming.

"And I wanted you to know that I, I uh," John's face twisted. "Aw hell, I've never been good at this, but dammit boy, I love you. You and Sammy, you were both my world. Didn't treat you like I should've but, I tried. God help me, I tried."

Dean's head was spinning, and John squeezed his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Dean. None of it, you hear me?"

Dean finally forced his tongue to form shapes, letters that he dragged out of mouth, kicking and screaming.

"But I, I got you killed. I got  _Mom_  killed. I don't…"

John made a rude sound, and Dean almost cracked a smile at the familiar sound. "Bullshit. I died because there was no other  _choice_. It was only ever you, Dean. Only you. And Mary-"

"Shouldn't have trusted the smooth words of a yellow eye," a voice interrupted.

Out of the swirling grey, came Mary. She was wearing the clothes Dean had seen her wear in Castiel's shared memory, gold hair shining. John smiled as he saw her, hand dropping from Dean's shoulder to reach towards her. She took it in hers, sinking down to her knees beside the two men.

"Don't you go blaming yourself for that too, baby," she murmured, reaching out to touch Dean's cheek. "Don't you  _dare_."

Dean was smiling, eyes watery as he looked at both his parents. He didn't understand anything, but found he didn't really care. "I miss you guys."

The two parents glanced at each other, sharing twin smiles.

"We miss you too," Mary said gently. "You and Sam."

"But it's time, Dean," John added firmly, hand squeezing Mary's as she smiled at him.

Dean looked at both his parents, confused. "Time? For what?"

John's rough hand found his shoulder again, squeezing tightly. "To  _let go_ , son. To let  _us_ go."

The grey around them swirled, and Dean could see Hel. Could see the dead body of his father, his own form bent over it, crying. It was pulling on him, wanted to keep Dean there in that dark place of loathing.

He swallowed heavily. "I... I don't think I can."

Mary leant forward, palm flat over Dean's chest. "We love you, Dean, and we always will. But you don't need us anymore."

She hugged him then, and Dean clung to her desperately, nuzzling his nose into her hair and trying to remember her smell. John's fingers curled around Dean's shoulder protectively.

"Let us go, Dean," he said quietly. "It's time."

Mary pulled away, and Dean felt the emptiness of his parent's death return. But it felt, different, this time. Less painful.

Mary took John's hand again, and they smiled at each other, just like they used to once upon a time. They were fading, Dean realized, disappearing back where they truly belonged. They didn't belong here, trapped on Hel in Dean's mind. They deserved to be at peace.

And Dean...Dean did too.

He breathed out shakily. "Okay. Okay, Dad. Mom. I'll... I'll let go."

His parents were smiling at him.

 _We're so proud of you,_ they whispered, fading from sight.  _Always._

The greyness closed in on him. Before he faded completely from Hel, Dean could hear the voices again, the awareness.

Geiad was pleased.

 

* * *

 

Something was nudging him, a sticky wetness slavering along his cheek. Dean groaned, trying to shift away from it, as his brain tried to pound its way out of his skull. Opening his eyes, he clutched his throat, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light again.

Chevy stood over him, long tongue retreating back into her beak as she noticed him move. The Levithmong held one leg up against her belly, and whined, shifting her weight. Dean could see dark blue blood oozing along her injured leg, and winced sympathetically.

"Ch—Chevy?" he asked, and the Levithmong huffed air at him, helping Dean sit up with nudges of her head.

Someone was shouting, and Dean looked around him dazedly, confused for a moment where he was. Trees swam into view, blackened with ash and soot, loud voices and screams nearby. A blurry figure was crouched a little in front of Dean, and he struggled to get his vision to focus.

After a few sharp blinks, he could make out dark feathers and a mess of black hair. Dean's heart pounded worriedly.

Castiel didn't move from his crouch, black wings spread and feathers rattling as he faced down Azazel. The demon was trying to flank the angel, but every time he tried to dart in, Castiel would force him back with a warning flap of his wings.

"Stay away from him!" Castiel shouted. Rage was etched into his very being, his wings agitated and furious. "Filth! Abomination!"

Azazel crouched low in front of the angel, blade ready and eyes blazing. He looked more like an animal than a man, teeth bared in a snarl.

"So you want to join your little boyfriend do you?" the demon spat. "You angels. Your daddy did the same thing, sacrificed himself for some worthless  _whore._ Like father, like son."

Castiel was shaking, hands balled into fists, his voice low and resolute. "You are evil itself. And I will  _destroy you_."

Dean struggled to his feet, body aching. Chevy supported him, Dean keeping his arm around her thick neck.

"No, Cas," Dean ground. "He's not worth it."

Both creatures jerked towards him, Castiel's wings drooping with relief. "Dean!"

Azazel sneered, blade glinting in the dim light. "So sleeping beauty awakes. Just in time to see me pluck your little pet."

Dean swayed tiredly, Chevy warm against his side. "Give it up, Azazel. You've lost."

The demon laughed loudly, but his eyes were wild. "Oh  _really_? 'Cause I think I'm doing pretty good."

"Look around!" Dean gestured around them with one arm. The sky was silent, all the ships having been brought down. Even the screams and fighting seemed far away, quiet and unimportant. "You call this victory? It's  _over_."

" _It's never over!_ " Azazel glared at him hatefully, face twisted. "You hear me? I won't lose! Not again!"

Castiel hurried over to Dean's side, eyeing the demon warily.

"You have already lost," the angel said gruffly, examining the cut on Dean's shoulder. "You were doomed from the start because of your hatred."

Azazel laughed, one hand pressed to his stomach. "Would you listen to the hippy! Are you telling me  _true wuv_ will save the day?"

Dean ignored the demon's gloating.

"Who was she?" he demanded, a dark part of him enjoying the sudden shift in Azazel's demeanor. "At Serpent's Pass. Dark hair, pretty face. She had eyes like you."

Dean hadn't understood until now. Hadn't understood why he had been haunted for so long by messages he hadn't heard, too hurt and too guilt ridden to truly see them.

Azazel's eyes flashed but the demon stayed unusually silent. Dean shrugged one shoulder dismissively.

"Fine. It makes no difference to me. The bitch is dead anywa-"

"My  _daughter_!" Azazel hissed, eyes glowing with anger. "My pride, my joy, my whole  _world."_

The trees behind Azazel shifted. Something moved amongst them, separating from the shadows.

The demon didn't notice. He was shaking, his previous calm smugness forgotten as grief and rage battled within him.

"They couldn't even send me her  _body_ because you slashed her to pieces you sick fuck!" Azazel bellowed, knife trembling in his hand. "I couldn't bury my daughter!"

"It was war," Dean said flatly. "I've carried enough guilt to last me a lifetime and I've had enough."

"You killed my child!" Azazel screamed at him, coming unhinged.

The trees behind him shuddered.

Dean watched him emotionlessly, Castiel pressing closer against his side. "She killed my dad."

"I lost  _everything_ because of you," Azazel took a step forward, teeth bared. " _Everything._ "

"No," Dean shook his head, sliding his hand into the warm weight of Castiel's wing. He could feel the angel's muscles twitching, straining to break free and fight Azazel. At Dean's touch, Castiel relaxed slightly, wings dropping.

"This is your doing Azazel," Dean continued. "But you can put an end to it, you can  _stop_  this. Call off your demons and come with us. We can-"

" _No!_ " Azazel screamed. "I came to claim my vengeance, Winchester. And I will  _have it!_ "

The demon lunged towards them, raising his knife up to chest level. Castiel cried out, trying to push Dean behind him as Chevy snarled warningly, but a pistol blast silenced them all, echoing in the eerie silence.

Azazel froze mid charge, looking down in shock at the bloody chasm yawning in his stomach. The knife slipped from his numb fingers, thudding harmlessly onto the grass. Azazel sank to his knees, pressing his hands to his abdomen tightly.

"Wh...what…" he bit out with confusion.

Emerging from the forest, came Sam.

One cheek was smudged with blood, his hair grimy and wild. A pistol was held in his hand, still warm, and Sam gazed at Azazel unafraid. The demon looked over at the younger Winchester with slowly dawning understanding, and Sam snorted, tossing the now empty pistol away.

"That's for my mother, you son of a bitch," Sam said coolly. He ignored Azazel's wide eyed stare, turning towards Dean.

"The demons have surrendered," Sam nodded towards Castiel. "Everyone's heading back to base."

Dean reached out to touch his brother gratefully as Sam walked over. "Man, I am  _so_  happy to see you right now."

Chevy bleated as well, bumping Sam happily with her head. Sam smiled tiredly, stroking his hand down her neck.

"I fell off Hershey after a helicraft almost landed on us. Been looking for you guys and Gabriel ever since."

A low moan from Azazel drew their attention back to him, and the demon glared at them all hatefully.

"Be done with it then," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Kill me as you did the rest of my family."

Castiel murmured warningly, the angel looking towards the trees. Plants shivered, and Dean at last recognized the head that pushed its way through the ferns, the sharp curve of teeth and bright gleaming eyes.

Dean's old friend the cat monster padded into the clearing, tail flicking. Chevy whinnied in alarm, but the cat creature didn't even glance their way. Its eyes were solely trained on the bleeding Azazel, and it paused at the edge of the trees, pacing and growling.

Dean looked back at Azazel. "What was her name?"

Agony flitted across the demon's face, though his eyes still blazed with malice. "Why should I tell you?" he snarled. " _Murderer._ "

That was rich, coming from a demon.

"What do you have to lose?" Dean asked. "You said it yourself, you've lost everything."

Azazel looked away sullenly, watching the cat monster pace.

"Meg," he finally said quietly. "My daughter's name was  _Meg_."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry she had to die. I'm sorry war made me do what I did."

He looked over at Sam, finally seeing the man his kid brother had become. Dean had struggled all his life to keep Sam safe, to keep him from the horrors of worlds beyond theirs, but in the end, it was Sam who had saved  _him_. What else had he lost, spending so many nights wrapped up in his own self-imposed hell?

Dean shook his head. "This ends  _now_. Too many people have died for your revenge. Let her go."

Azazel snarled at him, but his eyes were uncertain, torn between Dean and the cat monster.

"We can get you to a healer," Dean continued, ignoring Sam's shocked protest. "We can save you, Azazel. But you have to  _let her go_."

Some of the anger leeched out of those yellow eyes. Blood stained Azazel's front, his hands red where they struggled to stem the flow. The demon tilted his chin proudly, and Dean recognized the look in his eyes.

Azazel had made the same choice John had all those years ago, and it was just as easy.

"No," the demon said firmly, sealing his fate proudly. "I can't."

Dean nodded. It was his right to choose, and the demon had chosen. "So be it."

He turned away, Chevy staying pressed against him. Sam went with him, helping his brother limp away from the scene.

Only Castiel remained, and the angel watched the demon closely. Azazel's bloodstained fingers left his stomach long enough to grab the knife lying in the grass, his hand shaking as the cat monster licked its lips. The angel dipped his head towards the fallen demon, feeling a surge of pity for the broken creature.

"You killed my father, demon," Castiel murmured. "But I bear you no ill will that you have not already wrought upon yourself. May you find your daughter waiting for you with Geiad."

He stepped away, respectfully lowering his wings as the cat monster growled at him. "Then may both your spirits find the peace in death that they could not in life."

Azazel said nothing to him even as the angel turned away and trailed after the Winchesters.

Behind them, the cat monster howled.


	13. Chapter 13

**Warnings:** Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation. Kind of m-preg this chapter. Sorta.

* * *

 

It was a long tiring trek back to the base, the three of them trudging along beside Chevy. The chain link fence was twisted, crumpled, and as Dean clambered over the destroyed metal, cheers roared out across the tarmac.

The base lay in ruins, but they'd won the battle. The defeated demons sat cross-legged on the debris strewn tarmac, sullen and quiet as stern faced angels watched over them. Dean found Bobby, Ash and Jo in the crowd of cheering humans. The three were standing around Crowley, the demon sitting on a crate. Raphael was crouched in front of him, examining a cut on his forehead. Dean pushed through the crowd towards them, spotting a bedraggled Ruby give him a thumbs up.

" _Sam_!"

Dean craned his head and saw a shape peel away from the crowd.

Gabriel was smudged with dirt and blood, wings jerking wildly as he ran towards Dean's little brother, grinning like a lunatic. Sam didn't look any better, throwing his arms out and laughing as Gabriel barreled into him. With a flap of his wings, Gabriel locked his legs around Sam's hips, and the human stumbled back a step as Gabriel latched onto him.

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a smile as Sam's hands spread along the back of Gabriel's thighs, the two of them kissing like horny teenagers. Dean was too tired to be grossed out, not surprised at all that Sam had found something to keep him occupied while Dean was fawning over a different angel.

Seemed the angel fetish ran in the family.

Castiel laughed, hand catching Dean's. The pad of his thumb brushed against Dean's bruised knuckles, and Dean shot him a tired smile, squeezing his hand.

They had done it, they had  _won_.

Raphael straightened, pulling away from Crowley as the two approached, the iadnamad's eyes grave.

"Michael fell in battle," she said quietly, looking at Castiel. "I believe Lucifer joined him. Our clan is in need of a leader, Castiel."

Castiel swallowed, but nodded. He buried the grief of another brother gone, wings puffing with authority.

"You will lead us then, Raphael," he said boldly. "You have led our people through times of strife. You would make a fine leader."

Raphael smiled. "My time has passed young one, and my soul is weary."

Castiel looked around uncertainly. "Then certainly Gabriel-"

" _Hell_  no!" The sea of people parted, Sam moving into view. Gabriel was still latched to him, and the baltoh shook his head, wings curling protectively around Sam's shoulders. "I can't even take care of  _myself_ , let alone hundreds of angels. Forfeit!"

Raphael chuckled softly and Castiel turned to look at her worriedly.

"It is  _you_ , Castiel," she murmured. "I believe it was always to be you."

The crowd quieted.

"Me?" Castiel swallowed nervously. "But…I…"

"You were born special, Castiel," Raphael continued, and the other angels moved slowly through the crowd to stand around her. "You were born with the powers of the iadnamad. Many did not understand it, but this has always been your destiny."

Raphael gazed around them, at the burning complex, the defeated demons, and the humans that milled together with angels. "You were born to bring about change. It is Geiad's will."

Castiel dropped his head, staring at the ground. "I see only death, Raphael," he muttered. "My brothers lie dead."

Raphael looked at him pityingly, reaching out to touch his cheek softly. "With peace, there is also great sacrifice. Balthazar, Michael, and Lucifer will not be forgotten. Nor will the humans who have died, or the demons. Even-"

Her dark eyes found Dean's, and he met her stare proudly. He had nothing to hide, not anymore.

Raphael nodded. "Even Azazel will be remembered, for good, or evil."

She cupped Castiel's chin, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against Castiel's forehead. "You are our leader now, Castiel. You and the toltag, for you are bound through destiny."

Gabriel grinned, nuzzling Sam's chest happily. "Geiad works in mysterious ways, so they say."

"Wonder where I've heard that before," Bobby muttered grumpily, and Jo smacked him in the stomach, forcing a surprised grunt of air from his mouth.

Slowly, the angels began to bow as one, kneeling in the dust and ashes. They were bowing to Castiel, wings arching respectfully, as they murmured Enochian as one.

Castiel stood there, uncertain. Dean smiled, joints protesting as he dropped to one knee, shoulders dipping.

But a firm hand grabbed Dean's shoulder, pulling him back to his feet.

"No," Castiel whispered, blue eyes huge and bright. "Not you. Never you, Dean."

Dean kissed him, open mouthed and desperate as the angels bowed around them. Castiel pulled back to breathe out shakily against his lips, and Dean dug his fingers into the angel's dark wings.

"You mean that, Cas?" he asked breathily. "You've seen what kind of crazy shit us Winchesters bring. You sure you're not gonna get tired of me and my-"

Castiel shut him up with another kiss, pressing smaller kisses against his cheeks and nose.

"You bow to no-one, beloved," Castiel whispered, and Dean clutched the feathers in his hands harder. "You are my equal, in all things."

Castiel nearly fell over with the force Dean slammed into him, the human wrapping himself around the angel until it was impossible to determine where one started and the other ended.

Gabriel's laughter was loud, carrying over the smoke as Crowley immediately started bitching about no-one wanting to kiss  _him_  until Jo planted a sloppy kiss across his cheek and the demon blushed a deep red.

It was over, and they had  _won._

* * *

_A few years later_

" _Inias_!"

Dean raised his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The comforting sight of his nest swam into view, the blankets beneath him soft and warm. He struggled to sit up, yawning tiredly as Sam's head popped through the nest's entrance.

His brother looked disheveled, hair in disarray as he pushed away the tanned leather hide that served as a door. He smiled brightly as he noticed Dean, Castiel curled tightly beside him.

"Oh, hey guys," Sam said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry to barge in."

Dean glared over at him half-heartedly. "Knocking out of the question?"

Sam stuck his tongue out at him childishly, looking around the interior of the nest curiously. John's I.D tags were pinned to one rough wooden wall, several other knick knacks from the brothers' previous life tucked away in different places. It wasn't the best, but Dean was pretty damn proud of the little house he had managed to put together. Castiel had helped of course, but this was  _Dean's_ baby. Each woven branch, every carefully placed blanket and twig, had been planned and executed to perfection.

At least that's what Dean told himself. Castiel wisely kept his own opinions to himself.

"Sorry,  _mom_ ," Sam teased, apparently satisfied with whatever he found. "I was just, looking for something."

Dean groaned. "You lost him?  _Again,_  Sam?"

Sam blew his hair out of his eyes, cocking a hip. "We never  _lose_ him, he just...hides well."

" _Sam_!"

Gabriel's shout could be heard by every angel in the vicinity, and Sam jerked his head back outside the nest.

"Found him?" Sam bellowed back, and Dean winced at the noise. He could see through the entrance that Gabriel was gesturing towards the Levithmong field.

"He's been spotted by Uriel! Operation bedtime is a go!" Gabriel hollered, and Sam disappeared in a flurry of hair and limbs, Dean laughing as he watched his brother go.

Castiel stirred, eyes opening, and Dean arched an eyebrow down at him knowingly. The angel's wings were curled forward around himself, like a feather blanket.

"Something I should know?" he drawled, stroking his hand along Castiel's warm wing.

Castiel smiled bashfully. He lifted his wing, revealing the tiny slumbering fledgling cradled in his arms. Inias had Sam's hair and Gabriel's eyes, with tiny delicate honey colored wings. The little stumps twitched in his sleep, and Dean reached over to run his finger through the fluffy baby down.

"Cas, you can't go around stealing people's kids," he said, amusement curling in his voice. " _And_  getting Uriel in on your terrible scheme? That's devious."

The angel pouted, and Dean immediately melted as Castiel reached up to press a kiss to Dean's cheek.

"Just a little longer," he murmured, and Dean laughed, snuggling back down to join him. Inias yawned in his sleep, snuggling closer against Castiel's chest.

"Alright," Dean submitted. "But  _then_  we have to give him back, okay?"

Castiel nodded happily, tucking his wings back around the slumbering youngster. Dean let his mind wander, sleepy and relaxed.

It had been stressful at first, selecting a new home tree to house all the angels Dean suddenly found himself jointly in charge of. He had to grow accustomed to a life out in the wild, without the modern comforts he had grown up with, but Dean found he didn't really care.

Castiel was there every step of the way, and Dean found he actually liked the simpler life of the Ne'gassagen, the freedom which came from living his own life in the forest.

Despite Bobby's attempts to dissuade him, Sam followed Dean. Sam had found something worth more than research, and Dean respected his brother's decision to leave that life behind as well. Bobby had grumbled of course, but understood.

The old scientist took over as head of the science division at the newly refurbished complex. Roman Enterprises had finally decided to become a pure science base, and according to Bobby, things were going well. Dean and Sam still got to see the old grump quite regularly, and Bobby got to continue his science. Sometimes, Jo would come with him to visit the clan, and the fledglings would clamber over her excitedly, tugging at her blonde curls and examining the swell of her stomach.

She and Ash had gotten married during the spring. They were expecting a family now, the first human family to begin life on Oadriax, and Dean knew Bobby was proud.

Ruby had returned to Hel, and Dean wished the demon the best of luck. She had made him promise he would visit her one day, but Dean didn't think he could ever return to Hel. Even though he had put the past to rest, he still dreamt of Hel sometimes. In those nights, Castiel would curl into him, understanding and quiet.

Crowley stayed as the corporate administrator. Dean didn't see much of the demon, but knew Bobby was in good hands. According to Crowley's reports, the Winchesters had been killed during the base revolt, an occurrence caused by a highly disturbed security chief. The Winchesters were free to live life among the Ne'gassagen and they liked it that way.

And what a life.

No-one had been surprised when Gabriel announced that he and Sam had decided to go through with the mating ceremony after Sam's induction into the Ne'gassagen. The two were connected at the hip, and only a few months later, Gabriel disappeared with Raphael into the forest for a day. When he returned, he was carrying a fledgling.

 _Sam's_ fledging. For the first time in his life, Dean was an  _uncle._

Sam had been blindsided by it at first. He had never expected to be a father, let alone to a hybrid alien baby he had never thought possible, but with Gabriel and the clan's support, he had developed into a great parent.

_If only Cas would stop stealing the kid all the time._

Dean shifted his shoulders and Castiel mumbled against his shoulder.

"You know, you spend too much time with that little terror and you'll get broody," Dean said offhandedly, eyes still closed.

He could feel Castiel's smile against his shoulder and the angel pressed closer, lips ghosting across Dean's skin.

"That's the idea," he whispered, and Dean laughed, rolling over to kiss him. Castiel's eyes glittered as he pulled away and they smiled dorkily at each other for a moment.

"I love you, Dean," Castiel murmured, and Dean winked at him.

"I know," he said smugly, earning himself a smack to the chest.

"Ow!"

Their playful jostling awoke Inias, and the little fledgling let out a confused yawn. Castiel smiled, pulling the little one closer into his neck, crooning softly. Dean watched as the angel rocked the little boy back to sleep, whispering Enochian against the fledgling's soft hair.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean whispered, reaching out to touch Inias's tiny wings, looking forward to the day Castiel would hold a different child in his arms.

 _Dean's_ child.

A lifetime of possibilities was open to him now and Dean couldn't wait.

"Always?" Castiel asked quietly.

Dean nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. " _Always_."

_**Fin.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was a lot of fun to write, and is also the culmination of several months of work. If anyone was wondering, I used Enochian as the angels' language, and tried to translate as closely as I could. I probably failed :P I would love to explore the world further but we'll see :P This was written for the Dean/Castiel Big Bang on livejournal, go check out the other fics and the amazing art, lots of awesome stuff to choose from! Thanks for reading! :D


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